Behind Enemy Lines
by Make It Out Alive
Summary: Much is expected of Durmstrang student, Demetria Harris. She must become a Death Eater for her grandfather, win the Triwizard Tournament for her school, and even dance in high heels. Falling in love just doesn't make the cut…or does it? Book I.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

:.:.:

I'd been right on the edge of my seat up until I saw it happen, and I was one of the few who _did_ see it. Nearly everyone else was caught up in the excitement of the Quaffle exchanging hands between the Bulgarian players, but I saw the Irish Beater Quigley swing heavily at a passing Bludger, sending it straight into the path of one of my best friends, the player I'd gone to support that night — Viktor Krum. I called out to him but my voice was lost among the other deafening screams, and so the Bludger hit Viktor full in the face; that was when I jumped to my feet.

There came a groan from the crowd; Viktor's nose appeared broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted by one of the Bulgarian mascots — a veela who'd thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

"He's hurt! What're you blind?!" I cried out. "Is no one going to _do_ anything?!"

"Demetria," said the person next to me, my grandfather Carlisle.

I turned to look at him and saw the very grave expression he wore. It was time to go.

"Just a bit longer?" I asked, turning my attention back to Viktor. That was when I realized the Irish Seeker had seen the Golden Snitch, but Viktor was right on his tail. "Look, we can't leave now!"

" _Carlisle_ ," came the urgent whisper of Lucius Malfoy.

Grandad and I had come to the Quidditch World Cup with he, his wife, and son — Draco.

Malfoy's wife stayed behind in her seat, but Draco and I followed his father and my grandfather as we made our way out of the arena. The game was going to end soon and we had to make it out before the crowd. It wasn't until we reached the edge of the forest on the outskirts of the World Cup camp sight that I could make out a faint cry from Ludo Bagman: "IRELAND WINS!"

The raucous singing from Ireland's fans followed soon after as everyone began leaving the stadium. I could see the glowing of lanterns flickering between the trees which, for a moment, lit up my bright red Bulgaria sweatshirt. Luckily, no one but Draco took notice.

"Take that off," he quietly said to me in a bit of a panic. I rushed to do so, revealing the black long-sleeved shirt I wore underneath. We all continued walking deeper into the forest, dressed as the shadows and soundlessly bearing down on the earth as we joined the rest of the group. Leprechauns were shot above the heads of the crowd which still issued from the stadium, swinging about their own lanterns which emitted a green radiation.

"I take it Ireland won," observed Antonin Dolohov, standing at the front of the group. He looked to the rest of us whose faces were now hidden behind skeletal masks, all except myself and Draco.

"Now that you've decided to join us, I'd say it's about time to break up this party," Nigel Mulciber wickedly suggested.

They all issued their own sinister snickering, except for Grandad and Lucius who brought Draco and I back a ways into the shrubbery. They each lifted their masks and lowered the hoods of their black cloaks, eyeing the pair of us with urgency.

"You know what to do." It wasn't a question which came from Grandad, the life so easily seen draining from his once-vibrant irises.

"You must remain unseen," Lucius reminded his son. "Speak to no one," His eyes then fell upon me as well. "and _stick together._ "

Draco and I each gave our individual nods prior to the men before us concealing their faces. They then gestured for the others to move forward and immediately after, simultaneously gave us the same order: "Run."

I took off first, Draco's trailing behind easily perceived by ear. And though I was fast, I could've been moving faster had it not been for the thickets, their thorns beginning to tear through my darkened attire. A sensation of pine filled through my chest, yet I still struggled to breathe as a heavy weight rested upon it. Deeper and deeper we continued to travel into the dense forest, but more and more the anxiety seemed to build within me. Until finally, Draco had caught up and cut ahead. He was forced to physically stop me, his hands dropping to my shoulders, panic in his grey orbs.

I listened closely beyond the sounds of gunfire and the screams which my rapid heartbeat had been drowning out, and then I heard it — people were fleeing into the woods. Draco and I had then unintentionally darted off in different directions. All light was lost aside from the firey blazes back at the campsite, so when my body collided with something solid, I hoped if it was another, it was Draco. But I knew that wasn't the case, and my fears were confirmed upon hearing a voice in the darkness mutter, " _Lumos!_ "

A trio of red-heads were revealed, one a young girl and the others a set of older twin boys. The one with his wand out leaned forward, baby blue eyes narrowing to get a better look at me perhaps, but I didn't allow him to. My eyes remained in slits, my hand stretched to cover my face from the blinding light of his wand.

"Watch where you shine that thing!" came the other twin, snatching it from his brother's grasp.

I knew I should have turned and started running but the next thing I knew, he'd shone his wand tip on my leggings which I finally saw held home to several tears, cuts in my flesh now exposed. One in particular sent a river of blood flowing down to my combat boot clad foot.

"She needs treatment!" said the girl insistently. "Charlie can —"

I quickly moved to pivot, only to have my hand caught by the twin now wielding the illuminated wand.

"Let us help you!" he insisted, but I snatched my hand back and began running.

If the trio had taken off after me, I couldn't decipher which footsteps would be their's. I simply allowed my feet to carry me aimlessly through the forest until I saw it pierce through the night sky, revealed for the first time in thirteen years — the Dark Mark.


	2. Chapter 1: The Luck of the Draw

_**Chapter One**_

 _The Luck of the Draw_

:.:.:

How do you come back from something like that intact and unfazed? Is it even possible? In my case, I've had to learn to make it possible. I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…trained to function without one.

My grandfather, you see, he was all I had. He was my guardian, my only family, for I never really got the chance to know my parents. The only thing I knew about them was the way they looked on their wedding day, thanks to the picture Grandad had given me. All right, so maybe that wasn't the _only_ thing I knew… But Grandad never spoke of them, never even told me how they died. One day he just sat me down and told me as quickly as possible that some Aurors from the Order of the Phoenix had murdered them for being Death Eaters.

 _"You look just your mother, you know,"_ I recalled the words Grandad had told me at ten-years-old. _"But your father is definitely in there as well. You've certainly gotten his eyes_ … _and Quidditch ability, no doubt. He played Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados, I'll have you know."_

" _Demetria? Demetria?_ "

But all at once, Grandad's voice began changing, growing somewhat deeper and gaining a…Bulgarian accent?

"Demetria?" The voice's owner shook me from my thoughts…literally. "Are you all right?"

I straightened up from where I sat in the common room, occupying the entire window seat, and found myself staring into the dark eyes of my seventh year friend, Viktor.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured him, my own accent of British origin clashing with his (not to mention the rest of the school). But Viktor still looked to me with a skeptical brow raised. "Honestly, you can lower those bushy eyebrows of yours."

Shooting him a grin, which he returned, I allowed my eyes to wander back out the window to find the same old mountainous landscape surrounding the castle.

"Vhat is it you are thinking about?" Viktor inquired.

But regardless of all the years I'd known Viktor, the fact that my grandfather was a Death Eater, and that my parents had been them too...that was something I wasn't even ready to admit to myself yet.

"My parents." It wasn't a complete lie.

Viktor walked over and I dropped my legs to make a space for him to sit; he did. "I am afraid I knew your parents no more than you, but I do know this — they vould be proud of you, Demetria. After all, you are von of the top students here at a school no other vitch could survive in, let alone succeed."

I decided I wouldn't even think about if that were true or not, I'd just believe it was. "Thanks, Vik," I told him, sincerely.

"Viktor, Demetria," called a voice from the threshold of the common room. It was the third member of our little trio: another seventh year by the name of Grigor Poliakoff. "Karkaroff vants everyvon down in the Dining Hall straight away, so hurry, von't you?"

"Nie idvame," I assured Grigor in his native tongue. **(** _ **We are coming**_ **)**

Grandad was very keen on my learning Bulgarian.

"Do not vorry, friend. I am sure there vill be plenty of tarator for you to bathe in," Viktor said in jest as we made our way over to Grigor.

"Ah yes, and you know how Karkaroff just _loves_ your eating habits," I added.

At that, Grigor playfully tugged on my dark blonde locks, the three of us then making our way down to the first floor. And once nearing the Dining Hall, we found ourselves swallowed up in the sea of students all wriggling through the crowd to enter the Hall. So since Grigor, Viktor, and I had somehow managed to stay together, we moved to occupy three empty seats in a row and did so with success. It wasn't long after that all of the other blokes had found seats of their own and Karkaroff stepped up to the podium from his spot in the front of the Hall.

"God kvled," he began. **(** _ **Good evening**_ **)** Regardless of whether everyone there was Norwegian or not, we'd all come to know what certain terms such as that meant. "Naturally, you are all wondering why I have asked you all to be here, yes? Well, I will not prolong my reasons. Gentlemen…and lady…" He spotted me rather easily and a few students, as well as myself, gave a chuckle. "this is the first time in over a century that we will be attending an event known as the Triwizard Tournament."

A wave of excitement broke upon everyone in the Hall, all undertones detected as buzzing. Even Viktor and Grigor began muttering about something. Despite coming from a pure-blood family, I was one of the few still awaiting an explanation.

"Now then, for those of you unaware of what this tournament is, the first was held in approximately 1294 —" Nearly half of the blokes issued groans. "Stillhet," he ordered sternly. **(** _ **Silence**_ **)** "As I was saying…Each of the three schools — Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts — were represented by one Champion apiece who would compete in three tasks designed to test magical ability, intelligence and courage, traditionally judged by the Headmasters or Headmistresses of the competing schools. Champions would compete for the honour and glory of not only winning the Tournament, but the prize for the victor — the Triwizard Cup and a monetary prize."

"Vich school is hosting this year?" inquired a student I recognized to be Aleksander Nikolov, a fellow fourth year. Everyone submitted their agreements which practically drowned out Karkaroff as he attempted to warn us of the rise in death tolls.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _But_ , not all of you may come — Hush!" he silenced all arguments prior to their peak being reached. "And since I know you will all complain about this news as well, I shall get it out of the way — You have to be at least seventeen to enter your name," But if the blokes were outraged, they managed to keep it quiet for once. "Anyway, as far as who will be coming to Hogwarts, my first choices will be those of age and of great skill. For anyone else to be chosen, it will be — as I have heard it said — the luck of the draw. I will announce said students the morning before we depart for Hogwarts…a week from today. That is all! Off to your quarters!"

There were only a handful of different expressions spread amongst the blokes. All those of age left with a distant look on their faces, while nearly everyone else appeared either furious or anxious. But from what I could see, Viktor and I were the only two participating in neither facial appearance.

"Reckon you'll enter, Vik?" I asked him.

"I haff not even been chosen to go yet," was his humble reply. He knew as well as I did how much Karkaroff favored him. So I only continued to stare at him as though saying ' _Really_ Viktor?'. He gave a full laugh. "All right, so my chances are looking good. And even if I did not submit my name, Karkaroff vould _for_ me. But vhat about you?"

"I'm not old enough to compete," I reminded him, now noticing Grigor trailing at my side like a zombie. His eyes were wide as Quaffles and his jaw was dragging along the floor. "And even if I was, I wouldn't want to end up looking like that."

Viktor found Grigor and grinned, shaking his head hopelessly at the poor bloke. "But you vould be more than capable of surviving, I am sure. Who knows? Maybe they vill make an exception." He nudged my shoulder teasingly.

"Thanks," I smiled. "But I wager my father's Quidditch legacy, plus my own someday, ought to give me enough eternal glory to last into my old witch age. I don't need to be a Triwizard Champion."

"Neither do I," He shrugged. "But it vould be fun to vatch, no?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "but you heard Karkaroff — it's the _luck of the draw_ ," I imitated him with my best attempt at his fruity, unctuous-voiced accent.

"But you must know he has a soft spot for you as vell?"

I shrugged. "Most of the professors here do."

Grigor seemed to finally have wiped the drool from his blood-red robes, composing himself enough to form a sentence. "Are you thinking I haff a chance at making it?" he asked Viktor and I.

"Without a doubt," I assured him as he gave a confident smile. "You _have_ chosen a rather elite group of friends, after all." It had fallen just as quickly, Viktor and I both chuckling at our friend. "Not to worry, Grigor, I'm sure you'll make it. But you'll have your answer soon enough, the week'll be over before you know it…"

:.:.:

"That vas the longest veek of my life!" embellished Grigor upon everyone's arrival into the Dining Hall. The day for Karkaroff to announce the dozen students traveling to Hogwarts had finally arrived, and I felt absolutely no different.

"Calm yourself, Poliakoff," Nikolai Pavel leaned in to say. "Vouldn't vant you drooling on yourself again, vould ve?"

Nikolai was a seventh year, and the absolute worst one, at that. Actually, he was just the worst student in general. He loved to start shite with anyone and everyone, no matter what.

"Sod off, Pavel," I told him as I placed a hand on Grigor's shoulder. "If Grigor's chosen, it's because of pure talent. If _you're_ chosen, it's because Daddy's gone and bought your entry."

The gorilla-resembling git narrowed his eyes in my direction. "You'd be vise to vatch yourself around me, Harris. Vouldn't vant any harm to come to…Durmstrang's Lille Prinsesse."

With that, he and his sallow looking side-kick continued on to locate a seat. And though it hadn't been in Bulgarian, it was easy enough to decode, especially considering that wasn't the first time I'd been called by that name. _Durmstrang's Little Princess_ , I thought in disgust. But I simply allowed the comment to roll off my back, for Nikolai wasn't the only bloke in school who seemed to think I was. And it never helped that nearly all of the professors, Karkaroff included, would give me a sort of special treatment from time to time. Whenever they did, I would try and tell myself it was because of the skills beyond my years which I possessed, but that was rarely even half of the reason why.

"God morgen," **(** _ **Good morning**_ **)** I hadn't even noticed Karkaroff take the podium, but sure enough, there stood said Headmaster, the same old smile he wore unable to reach his cold eyes and the same old goatee ending in a small curl from his chin. "Before we tuck into our breakfast, I believe there is something you have all been waiting for, no?"

The Hall errupted in their own forms of confirmation, seemingly every bloke going along with Karkaroff's little game of fetch. He threw the ball and everyone ran to bring it back, even Grigor. But knowing Karkaroff, he'd only throw it back out into the air again until someone caught it between their teeth.

"And you have all been waiting so patiently for this day, but I'm afraid I have forgotten what it is you have all been waiting for…" The ball was tossed again and Grigor gladly leapt into the air to catch it. He slammed his fist down on the table and began shouting at Karkaroff along with the others.

"All right, stillhet!" he demanded. "After careful consideration, I have finally decided who will be making the two day journey to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament," he continued dramatically. "When and if your name is called, come forward and be seated at the Head Table. Now, in no particular order…Viktor Krum!"

Naturally. I joined the Hall in applause and watched as Viktor shot me a knowing glance before standing and making his way toward the Head Table in front of the Hall. He took a seat between Karkaroff's aide — a seventh year whose name escaped me — and the empty seat of Karkaroff himself.

"Sasha Polinskiy!" Ah, so _that_ was his name. Sasha rose briefly to take a bow before descending back into his seat. And the next four names Karkaroff announced were also those eligible to be the Durmstrang Champion.

"Nikolai Pavel!"

"Oskar Kowalski!"

"Sergei Christov!"

"Grigor Poliakoff!"

I actually had to catch the Drama King who'd pretended to faint from his spot on the bench. But luckily, it wasn't for long, Grigor quickly 'regaining consciousness' and practically bolting toward the Head Table. Honestly, he was just too much sometimes. But anyway, the remaining six names were the underaged students who would support their Champion. And for some reason, that was when the butterflies began fluttering within my stomach.

"Aleksander Nikolov!"

 _I dunno why I'm so anxious about this,_ I mused. _After all, I don't absolutely_ need _to see the Tournament._

"Finnick Archer!"

 _It's really all right, I don't need to go._

"Marcus Azarov!"

 _There are so many other students here, I'm sure my name wouldn't be called even if I wanted to go_ … _which I don't._

"Ivan Skar!"

 _Although_ … _it could be fun just like Vik said_ … _And I'd be going to Hogwarts, where my parents went to school_ …

"Yuri Blok!"

 _Oh to hell with it! Please call my name!_

"and Demetria Harris!"

For a moment, I thought I was simply caught in a daydream. It wasn't until one of the boys had given my shoulder a nudge that I finally realized I wasn't. So I stood upon fairly shaken legs and made by way to the Head Table where the only open seat remaining was between Karkaroff and Nikolai. _Just my luck_. But regardless, there wasn't a moment to socialize — or insult — Nikolai what with Karkaroff's mouth immediately running as soon as his arse hit the chair. He went on to babble about how we all knew how to behave and make a good first impression and other bollocks of that nature. After that, I'd managed to completely tune him out as he spoke of the traveling accommodations. But there then came one word which had brought me back into orbit — well, two — Yule Ball.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I intervened, though Karkaroff hardly seemed to mind. Though if it had been someone like Grigor, there would have been a tad bit of yelling involved. "but what's this I'm hearing about a Yule Ball?"

"Actually, I was just about to explain that, Demetria," he replied coolly. "The Yule Ball is a tradition involved in the Tournament. It is a formal dance held on Christmas Eve of the tournament year, and is opened by the Champions and their…partners."

"You mean ve must vear our dress robes?" inquired Sasha.

"No, that will not be necessary," Karkaroff assured. "I have decided Durmstrang will stand out far more if you wear these uniforms." He nodded his head to Viktor who was sporting, though like every other boy there, the school's blood-red robes with the fur cloak and black pants.

That was when my fear truly began seeping in. Looking down at my own attire (my school uniform consisted of basically the same thing though with a bit more of a feminine touch) I knew it, unfortunately, wouldn't be appropriate for a formal ball.

"What about me, Professor?" came my question reluctantly.

"For _you_ , Demetria…" He seemed deep in thought before appearing rather sad, as though moved with remorse for me. That could only confirm my worst nightmare…or well, one of them at least. "…I would owl home for your outfit."

"You must be doing the kidding…?" scoffed Nikolai, amused. " _Harris_ in a _dress_?"

"Von may as well dress a chimp in lingerie," teased Grigor.

And though strange a point it was, it was true. I didn't even _own_ a dress, let alone _wear_ them. "Professor, is it required that everyone attend this ball?"

His face distinctly fell. "Well no, but it would show great…teamwork on Durmstrang's part."

If there was one thing that simply couldn't work on me it was a guilt trip. I remained completely oblivious to Karkaroff's crestfallen reply and told him decidedly, "In that case, you can count me out."

A long sigh and then: "Very well." But he'd almost immediately dove back into his informative demeanor. "Now, remember to finish packing by tonight. Have your luggage with you tomorrow morning and be at the docks no later than six o'clock. We set sail at dawn."


	3. Chapter 2: Welcome to Hogwarts

_**Chapter Two**_

 _Welcome to Hogwarts_

:.:.:

 **W** ith the sun still tucked away below the horizon, there was nothing more than a tint of blue lighting to show my way around the castle. Impending orange glow sat patiently somewhere, as I made my way down to the docks with my luggage. Viktor, Grigor, and I met up with one another beforehand so we continued to walk down together. Soon enough, the tall mast of the great skeletal-looking ship of Durmstrang came into view. The dots below indicated the arrival of the other students all bringing their luggage aboard. The three of us moved cautiously upon reaching the slippery, cobblestone steps leading down the slope of the mountain, until our combat boot-clad feet touched down on the wooden dock.

"Krum, Harris, and Poliakoff," said Karkaroff to Sasha who marked something down on a clipboard. "Wonderful! That is everyone!"

And so we stored our luggage upon climbing aboard, Karkaroff immediately heading for his cabin as Sasha took the wheel.

"RAISE ANCHOR!" he comanded. A collection of blokes moved to do so. It wasn't long before we'd began gliding out into the open waters.

I strode over to the railing and watched the castle until it was nothing more than a spec in the distance. And some time later, when the sun's rays began to spread along the horizon, Sasha called out, "PREPARE TO DIVE!"

We all retrieved our wands and casted all charms and other spells necessary to keep the ship and ourselves in tact. Then, once we were ready, the ship cut through the ocean and we remained completely unharmed — and dry — under it's glassy, blue surface.

:.:.:

Nearly three days later, on October 30th, was when I finally heard Sasha call out the words: "PREPARE TO DOCK!" Karkaroff had emerged from his cabin just as the ship began to rise from out of the water. None of us were aware of the time of day or had any idea of our surroundings, but once we'd finished removing the remaining Charms, we were free to observe. I leaned against the railing once again, my lungs thankful to finally be able to breathe in an air fresher than sea water.

"DROP ANCHOR!" came Sasha's orders once more; those in charge of it did as comanded.

I was rather surprised to find dusk had fallen, cold and clear, with a pale moon shining over the now black waters and giving the skeletal ship a somewhat eerie aspect. But the chills were nothing when compared to those at school, back in Norway.

"LOWER THE PLANK!" Karkaroff called out. Sasha did so, Karkaroff then the first one to step from it and touch down on official Hogwarts grounds. "Dumbledore!" He then said heartily to the white-bearded wizard with the twinkling, blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles — the great Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," was Dumbledore's reply.

I made by way down the plank right behind Viktor. "Prepare yourself for the hundreds of fan girls, Viky," I warned him lightheartedly.

"Good luck fending off your own hundreds of fan boys," he countered.

"Yeah, right," was my sarcastic reply. "I'll hire Grigor as my body-guard."

That was a common misconception people always tended to have about me. They thought simply because I was the only girl attending Durmstrang that all of the boys would just flock to me. That was absolutely not the case. Not that I haven't had my fair share of boyfriends and admirers and what-have-you, but the fact remained that the blokes of Durmstrang would prefer to give me a high-five rather than hold my hand. Which was probably why upon reaching the mass of Hogwarts students, I grew slightly self-conscious as most people began gawking at me. Well, it was either myself or Viktor and I was hoping it was the latter.

"Viktor, come along, into the warmth," Karkaroff's voice cut through the undertones of the students. His hand crashed down upon Viktor's shoulder before turning to face Dumbledore. "You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

That just about did it. Whomever hadn't noticed Viktor before, certainly caught sight of him, then. Karkaroff chose that moment to lead us all forward and file up the steps of Hogwarts, Viktor and his crazed mob of fans rushing along. I hung back a bit with Grigor and was unfortunate enough to catch a snippet of conversation between some of Viktor's fan girls.

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me —"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

" _Really._ "My voice mixed with the lofty tone of another female, evidently just as annoyed with those cackling hens as I was beginning to be. The girl must have heard me because she'd turned around and caught my eye, offering a small, sort of buck-toothed grin. She had bushy brown hair and a pair of irises hued to match.

"Hey, you!" hissed a voice. There was no need to turn though, for the red-headed boy had quickly slithered his way in between the girl and I. "You know Krum?"

"Sorry, never heard of him," I lied; Grigor chuckled beside me.

"What d'you mean?" asked the boy, truly puzzled. "I just saw you speak with him! You go to the same school! What about you? You know Viktor Krum, don't you?"

He nodded to Grigor who swiftly played along. "Viktor who?"

"Ugh! C'mon, Harry! Maybe we can catch him!" And so the boy tugged on the arm of his dark-haired friend whom I hadn't even really seen. But anyway, they'd managed to wriggle through the crowd and pass through the threshold of what reminded me of the Dining Hall back at Durmstrang. Though at Hogwarts, Draco had told me it was referred to as the Great Hall.

"Don't mind, Ronald, he's completely obsessed," said the girl to Grigor and I. "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Grigor Poliakoff," he introduced. "Pleasure to meet you."

Her eyes then fell expectantly on me. "Demetria Harris." Grigor and I stopped upon entering the Hall, finding our fellow schoolmates leaned against a wall, contemplating which table to sit at. For much like in our own Hall, there were four tables lined vertically beside one another, the only difference at Hogwarts being that they were each clearly for different Houses, also explained to me by Draco.

"You could sit with us if you'd like?" Hermione invited, standing between myself and the Gryffindor table.

But I took one look over at it and my gaze was immediately, almost as though by a magnet, pulled into the orbit of a certain red-headed boy's gaze. Not Ronald, which Hermione had called the boy wanting Viktor's autograph, but another with baby blue eyes which widened upon locking with my own set of hazel. It was the boy from the forest on the night of the Quidditch World Cup. No wait, it was him and his twin… _and_ two seats down, it was even the red-headed girl!

"Bloody —" I caught myself and quickly returned my attention to a patiently waiting Hermione. "N-no thanks," I told her, my eyes then darting over to find Viktor settling down at the Slytherin table along with the rest of the Durmstrang population. "We'd better stick with the group." I took Grigor by the hand and rushed over, the feeling of those blue eyes burning into my back making me rather comfortable.

"Demetria," began Grigor with concern. "vhy is it you are so jumpy?"

"I just…didn't want to lose Viktor," I lamely fibbed, dropping into an empty spot on the bench beside Viktor which also happened to be across from another familiar face.

"Draco," I greeted. Although we'd known one another for years, we weren't exactly best friends or anything. We'd attended all of the Death Eater and pure-blood community occasions there were, and yet still we were nothing more than mere acquantinces.

"Demetria," came his courteous reply.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout the silenced Hall. He stood before a staff table very much similar to the Head Table at Durmstrang. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

There came a derisive giggle from one of the Beauxbatons girls, which prompted Hermione to mutter something. And though I couldn't hear exactly what, I'd detected enough to pick up on her cutting tone.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

No sooner did Dumbledore take a seat than did the gold plates positioned on the tables filled with food. That certainly wasn't something we had at Durmstrang. Most of the selections were foods I'd seen before, but there were also more foreign varieties as options. And knowing Grigor, he'd feel the need to try them all. So upon turning to my left, I was hardly surprised to find him already devouring some sort of dish I'd never seen before…probably French. And speaking of foreign foods, dessert only brought more. So once all plates had been wiped clean, Grigor practically wore all he'd eaten and I'd looked up to find the red-headed twin eyeing me from across the table between us. Luckily, Draco obstructed my view of him.

"Who're you staring at?" he asked, capturing the attention of Grigor and Viktor. I glanced between the three of them and racked my brain for something to say. But thankfully, Dumbledore stepped in and saved me from having to do so.

"The moment has come, the Triwizard Tournament is about to start," he announced to the Great Hall upon standing once again. "I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —"

"Who died?" Grigor asked completely stone-faced. I only nudged him in the ribs.

"— just to clarify the procedure that will be following this year. But first, allow me to introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause grew tremendously louder for Bagman than the pattering of polite claps for Crouch. Possibly because Bagman had been a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, but also because he simply looked like a friendlier gent.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," persisted Dumbledore. "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts," Upon the mentioning of champions, everyone seemed to perk up a bit. Dumbledore must have noticed this, for he smiled and said, "The casket then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

A man whom I hadn't even noticed standing in the Hall's corner — whom I assumed to be Mr. Filch — approached Dumbledore from his lurking in the shadows and brought before him a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. Excited murmurs began filtering throughout the Hall as Filch gingerly placed the chest on the table before Dumbledore who continued speaking.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways, such as their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. I simply rolled my eyes. If these people feared three magical tasks in a tournament, they wouldn't last a minute in my combat boots upon facing Lord Voldemort and his swarm of Death Eaters.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore continued. "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Despite the numerous conversations which errupted after Dumbledore's final words, my ears had easily detected the red-headed boy's twin shout that out. My eyes lingered upon him for a moment, following him and his twin along with Hermione, Ronald, and his dark-haired friend as they made way for the Great Hall's exit along with everyone else.

"Back to the ship then," came Karkaroff's voice as he bustled up to where the rest of us stood milling around the Slytherin table. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

But Viktor only shook his head, Grigor then jumping in. "Professor, _I_ vould like some vine."

I threw my hand down on his shoulder to restrain him from practically jumping Karkaroff.

"I wasn't offering it to _you_ , Poliakoff," he snapped. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy —" He then turn and proceeded to lead us toward the front of the Hall, my hand remaining on Grigor's shoulder regardless of how much taller than me he was.

But once we'd reached the doors, we stopped there, Karkaroff seemingly involved in some sort of brief exchange with the dark-haired friend. And though I hadn't been paying attention, for I was far more concerned with keeping my gaze away from the red-headed boy, Grigor nudged me and pointed openly at the boy's forehead. That was when I saw it — the lightning scar.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," growled a voice from behind us. We all pivoted to find recently retired Auror, Alastor — Mad-Eye — Moody glaring unblinkingly with his electric blue magical eye at Karkaroff. He leaned heavily on his staff and all at once, the color from Karkaroff's face drained. But still he dared to cause a scene.

"You!" he said to Moody.

"Me," was his grim response. "And unless you've got something to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

I couldn't have been more thankful when Karkaroff finally decided to continue on through the Hall's threshold. Unfortunately, I evidently wasn't out of the clear yet, for there came a gentle tug on the hand which wasn't still rested on Grigor's shoulder which pulled me back into the crowd and further from my fellow Durmstrang students. And very much to my horror, it was none other than Mr. Baby Blue Eyes himself holding me by the wrist.

"Who _are_ you?" he asked, his orbs searching my own as though he'd find the answer there.

But because he'd caught me so off-guard, I simply rushed anything foreign out of my mouth, which turned out to be, "Vi sa izmama!" **(** _ **You are cheating**_ **)** simply because I'd heard Grigor say it countless times when he and I were playing Exploding Snap on the ship.

I tore my hand away from the bloke's grasp and pivoted, cutting through the crowd as best I could until I'd finally made it outside. There, I was able to catch up to my classmates who were all making a bee-line for the docks, and I swiftly began walking beside Grigor as though I'd never left.

"Demetria!" he exclaimed. "Vhere haff you been?"

"Off vith your secret Hogvarts gadzhe?" **(** _ **boyfriend**_ **)** teased Aleksander Nikolov.

The boys all broke out in a chorus of laughter, but I remained silent. With luck such as mine, I'd be running into Mr. Baby Blue Eyes more often than I'd like…

:.:.:

The next morning, we were all woken up early by Sasha (in place of Karkaroff) and told to dress and ready ourselves to enter Hogwarts. the blokes and I had dressed in our lightest uniforms — them with their long-sleeved brown shirts tucked underneath a waist-high black belt with matching brown pants, and I with the same thing but omitting the belt and the brown shirt replaced with a black one. We still wore the same black combat boots however, our pants always tucked inside them. And though the boys would always give me shite about girls taking longer to get ready, they'd clearly never met a girl such as myself, for I was the first one off the ship.

"Morning, Demetria," came Karkaroff from behind. I turned and saw him make his way down the plank and stand before me, Sasha at his side.

"Morning, Professor," I politely replied.

"Tell me, Demetria," he began, standing completely upright with his head slightly inclined upward. "do you smell that?"

At first, I was completely thrown off by his question, almost afraid to take a sniff. But once I had, I smelled nothing more than the stench of the lake water. "The lake, sir?"

Karkaroff gave a full laugh. "No, no," he said. "I am referring to the smell of the Goblet shooting out Viktor's name as our Champion."

"I smell it, Professor," insisted Sasha, but Karkaroff paid him no mind, his eyes fixated on the castle.

"I don't believe that has a scent, sir," I told him, smiling despite myself. Karkaroff was a bit out there, but he was always good for a laugh.

The clunking of combat boots against the wooden plank sounded from behind me once again, this time with the rest of the blokes striding down it. They all continued to march on up the slope with Karkaroff and Sasha leading, and myself falling in line beside Viktor.

"Demetria, do you not take pride in the vay you look?" he whimsically asked.

"Is this s'posed to be your attempt at an insult, Vik?" I retorted.

Viktor shrugged. "I just thought I should be the one to tell you of the bird's nest resting on your head."

I swatted him playfully in his gut, the two of us laughing as we made our way up the steps into Hogwarts, walking on toward the entrance hall. And though I knew Viktor was only joking, I still ran a hand through my magically straightened hair (it was naturally wavy) only to have him emit a snort of laughter. That only resulted in a punch to his arm followed by more laughter on his part and a lighthearted smirk on mine.

Karkaroff had those of us who were underage simply sit and watch as the possible Champions submitted their names into the Goblet of Fire. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor to encircle it which must have been the Age Line, and whenever a name was entered, the Goblet's blue-white flames would briefly turn red and spit out sparks. So once all of those eligible from Durmstrang had entered, we'd all made a quick stop in the Great Hall to get some breakfast. But since Finnick Archer, or Finn, wanted to see the other schools enter their names and I wasn't all that hungry, we simply snatched a few pieces of bacon and a blueberry muffin each before returning to the entrance hall.

"So, d'you reckon Durmstrang's got much competition?" Finn asked me, his Scottish accent almost taking me by surprise. He was in my year, but I'd never really had a full-fledged conversation with him. I didn't really have any friends in my own year, actually. Though I'd spoken with him enough to know that he was born and raised in Scotland but with a Bulgarian background, hence his schooling at Durmstrang.

"I actually wouldn't know," I told him honestly upon our second entry into the hall. "I'd say we're the first to enter."

And even after we'd waited, regardless of the fact that it hadn't even been that long, the only people who entered the hall were doing exactly as Finn and I were — standing around to watch. That was until a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks came running in beside Mr. Baby Blue Eyes and his twin. Luckily though, he hadn't even noticed me for the three of them had gone straight over to Hermione, Ronald, and Harry Potter. I actually hadn't even seen that trio enter, but there they all stood, whispering to one another until their voices grew loud enough for my ears to detect that they'd created some sort of Aging Potion. But I kept myself somewhat hidden behind Finn who simply continued to nimble on his muffin. I suddenly wasn't feeling all that enthused about finishing my own, for when the bloke _did_ take notice of me, it caused a churning in my stomach.

"Ready?" his twin asked, pulling his gaze away from mine. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

"These two can't be serious," Finn said to me under his breath.

"I know," I agreed, eagerly waiting for the twin to be thrown out of the circle after he'd walked right up to the edge of it. "I mean, who d'they think they're fooling?" That second part came much softer, however, for the red-headed bloke had turned in my general direction upon hearing Finn's comment. And after all, it would be much easier to avoid them if they thought I couldn't even speak their language.

"You ever going to tell me who you are?" His eyes weren't on me anymore, but I knew his words were directed toward me. He didn't look at me again until he'd had his fill of the silence, and that was when I shook my head. "So you _do_ understand me?"

Oh, _now_ I'd done it. Then again, not necessarily. But judging by the victorious grin etched across his face, I must have dug myself into some sort of hole. So I decided to try and play the foreign card again.

"Ne si gubete vremeto s men," I told him. **(** _ **Do not waste your time with me**_ **)**

His grin never faltered as he turned toward Finn. "Oi!" he claimed his attention. "You don't reckon this'll work?"

"Not a chance," Finn scoffed good naturedly. "'Specially when you're trying to get past magic done by Albus Dumbledore."

"You seem a fan," the twin assisted. Those two were definitely up to something.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," admitted Finn with a shrug of his shoulders. "I haven't got nearly as much interest in him as this school though. I've read _Hogwarts: A History_ about a dozen times."

The devious pair looked as though they'd heard exactly what they wanted. "Then would you care to place a wager on this?"

After a moment of consideration, Finn told them, "I'm listening…"

"If our potion works, you've got to introduce us to your little friend —" The twin gave a wink.

"— and act as our translator," added the other.

"But if it doesn't work," He passed it back to his brother. "We'll give you a tour of the entire castle."

Finn, who had been looking at me upon my being mentioned in the bet, certainly wasn't any longer. He beamed ear to ear and fervently told them: "You're on."

And so, smirks remaining intact, Mr. Baby Blue Eyes's twin, after rocking on his toes for a good five minutes, inhaled and stepped over the line. For a split second, I actually thought it'd worked, and I found myself unaware of which outcome to hope for. Apparently the bloke was led to believe it worked, for he'd released a triumphant yell before leaping after his brother. But suddenly, there came a loud sizzling sound and both twins were launched out of the golden circle, landing with a thud on the cold stone floor about ten feet away. A popping noise then issued and they both sprouted identical long white beards. Laughter sounded throughout the entrance hall, the twins and even myself included.

"I did warn you," came Dumbledore's amused voice. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

"I reckon you two owe me a tour." Finn smirked, and I found it truly unsettling that the twins doing the same, visible despite the long beards.

"Right you are, my wisely-gambling Scottish friend —"

"— On just _one_ ickle condition."

Finn's eyebrows raised skeptically. "What is it?"

A bit of a dramatic pause and then: "Little Miss Durmstrang's got to come along."

"I —" It was a good thing Finn decided to cut me off when he did, or else the next words out of my mouth surely would have been English. But I suspected the twins knew it would be, considering the mild alarm which issued across their faces upon hearing that single word…or well, letter.

"Hold on," said Finn. "You two didn't win —"

"You don't have to introduce us —" assured one.

"— and you don't have to translate," the other said.

But just as Finn appeared to be musing it over, the voice of Dumbledore came once again. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, the hospital wing…?"

"On our way, Professor," assured one of them, the other beckoning Finn and I to go with them. Honestly, at that point, I'd simply given up figuring out who was who. After all, it seemed as though they were both after my identity.

"What d'you say, Demetria?" Finn turned to ask me just above a whisper.

And though I wanted so very badly to turn him down, the hopeful smile he wore along with the gleam in his eyes simply extracted the fight right out of me. "All right," I told him reluctantly, grabbing his hand just as he was about to pivot. "On one condition."

" _Another_ condition?" Finn whined, though jokingly.

"Don't mention my name," I warned him.

Finn only nodded, his face as grave as I had been, before making his way toward the twins. I, unfortunately, trailed close behind. Once we'd made it over, the twins and their friend with the dreadlocks immediately began leading the way. At first, they whispered among one another, but then turned and began walking backwards, except for their friend who simply hung back to walk by Finn's side.

"Good morning, lady and gent, and welcome to the Tour of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the twin on the left enthusiastically told us before pointing to his brother. "He's George Weasley —"

"— he's Fred Weasley —" he pointed to his twin.

"— and he's Lee Jordan," both of them introduced the boy with the dreadlocks at the same time.

"We ask that you keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times —" said George before Fred cut in.

"— unless you're looking to get your arms gnawed off by a couple of hungry, sleep-walking, Slytherin gorillas —" he quickly added in an undertone.

"— as we make our way to our first stop."

"The hospital wing," came another one of their simultaneous declarations.

Lee Jordan and Finn both appeared truly entertained by the twins' performance. I had to admit, it was amusing, but I didn't even allow so much as a shadow of a smile to break through. But with the way George kept his eyes on me, I figured it was his goal to get me to do so. He must have been the one who'd grabbed my hand in both the woods and the hall last night.

"So, who do we have with us today, Lee?" Fred asked before he and George turned in order to lead us up a flight of stairs.

"Fred, I'm here with two students all the way from Durmstrang Institute," Lee played along, feigning the holding of a microphone. "Hello, sir, what's your name?"

"The name's Finn Archer," he told Lee who'd put the 'microphone' closer to his mouth. Finn gave a laugh before adding: "Oh, and this is my friend D — Er, my friend."

Fred and George had whipped back around in an instant, each throwing names out there beginning with D in an attempt to guess my name.

"Diana?"

"Debra?"

"Delilah?"

"Danielle?"

"Dakota?"

"Dallas?"

"Denver?"

Once the guessing of my name had turned into the guessing of American cities and states, that was when I began glaring at the pair of them. That was until George leaned in a bit, stroking his beard, and solemnly whispered, "Dolores?" I couldn't hide the grin anymore after that, my smile breaking through alongside a breath of laughter. But I quickly caught myself from revealing any more and my mouth snapped back into a hard line.

George offered a genuine smile. "You should smile more often, Dolores."

"Around Durmstrang, we call her Lille Prinsesse," teased Finn. I reacted as I usually would and swatted him hard in the gut. " _Lovingly_ of course," he added upon clutching his stomach, face twisted in discomfort.

"Y'know, George," Fred began, continuing to lead up another flight of stairs with a mischevious grin already in place. "seeing as how we don't know this mysterious maiden's name, perhaps _we_ should call her that as well."

"You've got a point there, Fred," said George, mirroring the smirk, before his eyes locked with mine. "Unless, of course, _Princess_ decides to tell us."

I'd actually been _this_ close to cracking, nearly snapping at those two trouble-making twins in the king's English, but I didn't. I was able to restrain myself, despite how deeply the nickname dug under my skin. I truly despised it. Mostly because it had been Nikolai Pavel who'd given me said nickname in the first place.

Honestly, it felt almost out of my element just turning the other cheek. But it also provided a sense of victory upon watching the twins' faces fall ever-so-slightly in my doing so. It wasn't until we reached what I assumed to be the hospital wing that their words were also directed towards me again.

"We'll just be a moment," Fred assured the rest of us. "Lee, Finn — keep your boxers out of a bunch —"

"— and Princess, don't worry your pretty crowned head." A wink and George had followed his brother through the large wooden doors.

I couldn't take it. That was when I simply just _had_ to say something, regardless of Lee Jordan's presence. "I'm leaving, Finn," I told him before swiftly making my way around him, only to have him pull me back in by the hand toward a shocked Lee.

"C'mon, Demetria," Finn pleaded. "You're a part of the deal! Besides, don't you want a tour of the school your parents went to?"

Lee was muttering things such as 'Demetria' and 'English', but Finn and I simply ignored him for the time being. "Of course I do!" I confessed. "I would just prefer one given by someone other than those two baboons."

"They're not bad! Not bad at all!" Finn insisted. "They remind me quite a bit of _you_ actually."

"I don't see the resemblance," My hand flew to the hem of my shirt to fiddle with the fray, Finn's statement actually being true. The twins and I did share the same sense of humor, and Finn was right about another thing — they truly weren't bad. Not bad at all. But would they be treating me the same if they knew who I was? Demetria Harris, daughter and granddaughter to Death Eaters. Plus the fact that they'd encountered me in the forest at the Quidditch World Cup, so they must already have had some suspicions about me. I wasn't about to just confirm them. "Look, just trust me, they're better off not knowing me."

"So, Demetria, you're British?" said Lee cheekily.

"Yes, I am," I sweetly replied before my tone went sour. "But you will _not_ be telling Fred and George about this."

"Are you mad?!" he asked me with eyes as wide as Quaffles. "Fred and George are my best friends! Of course I'm going to tell them!"

Feeling as though there were no other option, I lifted my right leg to retrieve my wand which remained dormant inside my combat boot. I then pointed it threateningly in front of Lee's face. His dark eyes nearly crossed in an attempt to stare at it.

"Don't make me do it, Lee," I warned him.

Lee released a shaky laugh. "You wouldn't hurt me…" Though he seemed a bit unsure.

"Say a word to either of them and I'llcast a Stinging Hex so strong, your face will swell until you're unrecognizable," I assured him.

Lee's eyes shifted from my wand to my own orbs. He then gave a brief glance toward Finn who only nodded to affirm my seriousness. "Why is this such a huge deal exactly?" Lee skeptically inquired.

"Just promise you won't tell Fred and George," I persisted, poking my wand to his chest.

"Demetria —"

"You too, Finn!" My wand remained on Lee but my eyes had shifted over to the Scot himself. "Silent as the stars, both of you." I repeated the words Grandad had always told me when I was younger.

"But wh — ?"

"Promise!"

"We're back!" Fred practically sang as he and George appeared bursting through the doors. Luckily, they'd been so focused on their entrance, they hardly noticed me quickly stowing my wand away. "Hope you didn't miss us too much, Princess."

But my reply consisted of nothing more than a roll of my eyes and a huff of breath. And though I'd diverted my gaze from the pair of them, I carefully watched Lee when George jokingly asked him: "She wasn't talking about us, was she?"

Lee grinned and told him, "Silent as the stars."

:.:.:

Nearly an entire day spent without a single English word uttered. It had to have been a new record for me. And Hogwarts was so bloody big that by the time we'd completed our tour, I could see both the Beauxbatons students and my own classmates making their way back to the castle. And though for a moment I'd thought perhaps Karkaroff had been having kittens over mine and Finn's absence, but I was quick to realize that he was far too preoccupied prepping Viktor for the Tournament to worry about the pair of us. Speaking of, it seemed Viktor and Karkaroff felt they were the only ones who should even be attending the Feast that night what with the way they strode so far ahead of the others. But another thing I realized was that it wasn't Viktor's fault, Karkaroff just got carried away. And Merlin, did he ever.

"I'm surprised he hasn't printed Viktor's face on the back of his cloak yet," I leaned in to tell Finn.

"Did you say something, Princess?" cooed George, he and Fred smirking from a ways behind Finn and myself. I turned silently and waited until Karkaroff and Viktor were near enough that Finn and I could fall in behind them.

"Harris! Archer!" Karkaroff brought his mouth from Viktor's ear to say. He'd probably been encouraging Vicky dearest the entire walk from the ship. "Where have you two been?"

I risked a glance back at Fred, George, and Lee who were engaged in their own hushed conversation. Discussing which surname was mine, no doubt. Bloody hell, when would those blokes give up? And actually…Lee better not have been telling them which was mine.

So while Finn gave our reason, I sent a significant glance at Lee who only winked in reply. I just hoped that was a good sign.

"So long, Princess!" all three of them chorused dramatically. I squeezed my eyes shut with a pained expression upon my face as though it would brace me for the snickers which came from some of the blokes, especially Nikolai.

Karkaroff then led the lot of us into the Great Hall which was nearly filled. The Goblet of Fire had been moved from the entrance hall to in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the staff table. The blokes and I went to re-claim our seats at the Slytherin table from the previous night, Draco acknowledging my presence with nothing more than a nod that time, which I returned. It wasn't until more than half-way through this Halloween Feast that I decided to strike up a conversation with him.

"So, Draco," I began casually as though we spoke all the time. I had his attention, though he seemed rather taken aback. "who's got the best shot at being your Champion?"

Draco briefly scanned the Hall before telling me, "Cedric Diggory. He's a Hufflepuff, sixth year. Naturally, I should be cheering for Warrington considering he's a House mate, but…Well, Slytherin'd be better represented by a chimp."

I was surprised that I'd actually released a bit of a chuckle at that. In fact, Draco seemed to display the shock _for_ me. But just as quickly, he was smiling, as was I.

Finally, after what was deemed too long, when all anxiety and impatience was too much to bear, Dumbledore rose to his feet and a wave of silence crashed over the Hall. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on either side of him were appearing far more tense than anyone else. Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, was beaming and winking at students while Mr. Crouch looked rather bored. But I had to admit, even I couldn't contain my own impatience.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the front of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he gestured toward the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Taking out his wand and giving a great sweeping wave with it, Dumbledore had extinguished all candles besides those within a carved pumpkin, plunging the Hall into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brilliantly than anything else in the Hall, the bright, blueish-white flames almost painful to gaze upon.

"Are you needing for me to hold your hand, Demikins?" teased Grigor from beside me.

I didn't even look back at him as I elbowed his ribs playfully. "Careful not to wet yourself, Grigikins."

Suddenly, I could feel Grigor's body harden like stone beside me as the flames in the goblet glowed red, sparks emitting. The next thing I knew, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it. The entire room gasped as it gently descended, Dumbledore reaching out and catching it in one swift motion. The flames had returned to the blueish-white and he held out the parchment so to read by the light of them.

"I thought it best to relieve my students of their incredulous worry first. And so, the champion for Hogwarts," he began in a strong, clear voice. "is Cedric Diggory!"

Draco and I looked to one another, him with a knowing smirk and I with an impressed version. And with a storm of applause and a sea of Hufflepuffs rising to their feet, the brown-haired boy I'd assumed to be Cedric made his way past them and headed for the chamber. It had actually taken some time for the cheering to die down but once it did, another silence fell upon the Hall. After a moment, the goblet turned red once again, a second piece of parchment spewing from it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore. "is Fleur Delacour!"

Over at the Ravenclaw table, amidst the out-break of applause, there was a rather Veela-resembling girl who'd shot to her feet and tossed back her silvery blonde hair. And while she'd made her way toward the staff table and into the chamber, she'd left the rest of the Beauxbatons party in shambles. I kid you not, two of the girls who had not been selected actually dissolved into tears.

Fleur's applause had ceased right on cue, as soon as she'd disappeared into the chamber. It was time for the Durmstrang champion. And though it was basically a known fact that Viktor would be named champion, there were still those pesky butterflies swarming around in my stomach. The Goblet of Fire then turned red once more, sparks showering out of it and the tongue of flame shooting the last parchment into the air.

"And the champion of Durmstrang," said Dumbledore. "is Demetria Harris!"


	4. Chapter 3: The Wrong Champion

_**Chapter Three**_

 _The Wrong Champion_

:.:.:

 **D** emetria Harris? As in _me_ Demetria Harris?! I knew I should've moved, should've gotten up and made my way toward the staff table, but I just couldn't. My body suddenly became far too heavy to lift off of the seat, either that or I was just afraid my knees, so wobbly and unsteady, wouldn't support me. Come to think of it, that was probably why.

But everyone in the Great Hall continued to applaud, all except Durmstrang, the only ones who knew I was not of age to compete. Speaking of Durmstrang, I couldn't even stomach a glance at Karkaroff. And had it not been for Viktor who gave me a gentle push off the bench, I wouldn't have had to. So though I would have preferred to slid further into my seat and pretend I wasn't even there, I found my body moving forward while my head remained back at the Slytherin table.

I had just passed the staff table, all professors expressing their congratulations for me in a smile — all except Karkaroff of course who sat wide-eyed and mouth ajar — before all applause had ceased as I'd made my way through the door of the chamber. The brief journey into the small room could have been considered silent, had it not been for the shouting within my head.

 _This is such a mistake!_ continued to swarm through my mind. _I didn't put my name in the goblet!_ So who did?

Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory stood waiting, feasting their anxious eyes upon the third champion, which had somehow turned out to be myself.

" _You_ are ze champion of Durmstrang?" inquired Fleur through her thick French accent. She appeared just as shocked as I felt.

But before I could reply, Cedric had cut in. "You seem a bit…" he racked his brain for the appropriate term. "…small to be seventeen." Why the word 'small' required a bit of musing, I had no idea. And how exactly was that even putting it nicely as Cedric had clearly intended to do?

Regardless, I explained to them, "I'm only fourteen." That certainly widened both of their eyes. But before they could comment, there came an echo of footsteps. Pivoting, I found they belonged to Harry Potter.

Fleur had then composed herself enough to toss her curtain of long, silvery hair and say to Harry: "What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

But before Harry could deliver whatever the message was — if there was one at all — more scurrying brought forth Ludo Bagman who'd linked his arm within Harry's and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he mumbled. "Absolutely extraordinary! Ladies…gentleman," he added upon approaching the fire-side. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the _fourth_ Triwizard champion!"

All right, now things were truly just getting out of hand. Not only were there now _two_ underaged champions, but one of them was representing a school which already had a champion!

"Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman," said Fleur with a smile and another toss of her hair.

"Joke?" Bagman parroted. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Fleur frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young…as is she."

She pointed to me, Bagman's gaze falling to curiosity before shrugging it off and simply saying, "Well…it is amazing. But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name — and her's — have come out of the goblet…Well, there can't be any ducking out at this stage. It's down in the rules, you're obliged…Harry and Demetria will just have to do the best they —"

The door to the chamber opened once more, this time bringing forth a much larger group. Literally, that Madame Maxime giant counted for at least three extra professors. But besides her there was also Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, and two professors I assumed were Hogwarts staff. The woman appeared older, her hair drawn back into a tight bun with square spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. The man was sallow-skinned with curtains of greasy, jet-black hair and — Son of a banshee, that was Severus Snape!

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zese two children are to compete!"

 _Children?_ Who did she think she was calling a child? I was fourteen! In some countries, I could've been considered well into woman-hood.

Madame Maxime, when straightening up at full height, her head brushed the candle-filled chandelier.

Did I say three professors? I meant thirty-three…

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she imperiously asked.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," came Karkaroff, his eyes resting upon mine. And though I attempted to find some sort of emotion, any sort of give-away in his eyes, they were as cold and unmoving as ever, like two blue shards of ice. But then, he finally turned to face Dumbledore himself. " _Two_ Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?" He issued a short but nasty snicker.

Godric, I could only imagine what sort of punishment from him I'd receive once we were back on the ship. After all, I'd taken away the champion title from his precious Vicky.

" _C'est impossible_ ," came Madame Maxime. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions, and Durmstrang cannot 'ave an underaged champion! It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep our younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff once again, this time his cold orbs remaining on me. "No matter how skilled or talented they may be…" and then it had returned to Dumbledore just like that. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape softly intervened. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break the rules. As for Harris —"

"I did not enter my name," I told him firmly, though one glance of malice and I was ignored.

"Neither did I," Harry admitted.

Dumbledore was now looking down at the pair of us, the expression of his eyes behind those half-moon spectacles practically unreadable. "Did either of you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" he asked us.

"No," we both clarified.

"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" cried Madame Maxime.

"They could not have crossed the Age Line," the square-spectacled professor spoke sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz zee line," Madame Maxime insisted with a shrug.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said politely.

"You didn't…!" leapt from my mouth before I could think to stop it. "…er, Professor Dumbledore, sir." I thought back to the way Fred and George had been hurled across the entrance hall. There was no way in hell Dumbledore had made a mistake with that Age Line.

"Stay out of this, Demetria," Karkaroff instructed softly. And just because I was undoubtedly already in deep enough with him as it was, I silenced myself.

"She _is_ right, Albus," said the woman professor angrily. "You know perfectly well you did not make a mistake. Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, nor could Demetria, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

She shot a positively livid glare toward Snape. Thank Merlin for this woman!

"Mr. Crouch…Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff. "you are our — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman, who'd been wiping his round face with a hankerchief, turned to Crouch who stood just outside the circle of firelight, half of his face submerged in shadow.

"We must follow the rules," he said after a moment. "and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman as though that had just solved the issue.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff said gravely. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Bagman explained. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out and won't reignite until the start of the next tournament —"

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff had finally exploded. It was only a matter of time what with the way he'd practically been speaking as though he were a ticking time bomb. "After all of our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

 _Great! Because, quite frankly, dying wasn't on my to-do-list until about age ninety!_

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a somewhat familiar voice from near the chamber's entrance. "You can't leave your champion now. She's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Mad-Eye Moody had just entered the room, limping toward the fire. With every step he took, a loud wooden _clunk_ was emitted.

"Convenient?" parroted Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" asked Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name into the goblet knowing they'd have to compete if they came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime chimed in once again.

"I quite agree," said Karkaroff upon bowing to the giant headmistress. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic _and_ the International Confederation of Wizards —"

"Then how do you explain your own champion's name being submitted?" challenged Moody.

"Zey could assure the win for 'Ogwarts if zey took out ze intimidating young boys of Durmstrang and made zeir champion a young girl —" Madame Maxime easily replied.

"No student of mine makes for an easy target!" Karkaroff had so quickly turned on the giant woman, his hand now encouraging resting on my shoulder. "Especially not young Harris here. She is one of the top students at —" Realization struck Karkaroff, Moody's point having been proven correct. After all, if I didn't make for Hogwarts's easy win, my name had to have been submitted for another reason.

"Are you suggesting someone submitted our names in hopes that we'd…die?" I really should have been keeping my mouth shut as Karkaroff had previously wanted, but he seemed just as interested in Moody's answer as I was to reprimand me this time.

But Moody never replied. Instead, Bagman's voice cut through the extremely tense silence. "Moody, old man…what a thing to say!"

"I didn't say it," Moody pointed out. "Young Harris did."

But even if Karkaroff did believe the theory for a moment, he certainly put a different spin on things now. "We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," he said loudly. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" growled Moody. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put Potter's name in that goblet. Could've been anyone putting Harris's name in. Anyone who wanted them gone."

The first person my mind rushed to was Nikolai Pavel. But he couldn't have hated me _that_ much…could he?

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object into thinking there were four schools competing!" Moody explained. "It would have taken an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…"

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," Karkaroff skeptically voiced my exact thoughts. "and a very ingenious theory it is."

"It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember…"

"Alastor!" Dumbledore warned. I'd almost forgotten that was Mad-Eye's real first name. "How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament just as Demetria has. This, therefore, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr —"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

And though he'd waited, she responded with nothing but a glare, though she wasn't alone. Snape was looking rather furious and Karkaroff was simply livid. Bagman, on the other hand, couldn't have appeared more excited.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he asked, beaming. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

"Yes," said Crouch as though just coming out of a deep reverie. "instructions. Yes…the first task… The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…

"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

He then turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," confirmed Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," he insisted. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment…I've left young Weatherby in charge…Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" prodded Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

 _The man said no, can we leave now?_ I longed to say aloud. _Apparently, I'll have to start writing my will first thing._

And with that (or whatever I'd just missed), Madame Maxime had taken Fleur by the shoulders and was leading her out of the chamber, both engaged in a rather fast French conversation. And had I known more Norwegian or had Karkaroff known more Bulgarian, we'd have been doing the same thing when we finally exited the room ourselves. But even once we were the only ones making our way through the deserted Great Hall, he still didn't utter a single word to me. Honestly, I would have preferred his scolding over his silence. It only caused the tension to thicken. But perhaps that was simply his way of having me suffer.

Either way, it gave me quite a bit of time to process all of this. The reality of the dangers hadn't quite sunk in yet, but the possibility that someone may have wanted me killed did. Though that couldn't have been true, for the only true enemy of mine who could have possibly entered my name in was Nikolai, and even _I_ didn't hate _him_ that much. It wasn't until Karkaroff and I had reached the docks that he spoke.

"Demetria." My name simply hung in the night air for a moment, a silence that seemed to last forever lingering.

"Yes, sir?" I prodded, though he still hesitated to respond.

"Just between the two of us…did you a — ?"

"I asked absolutely no one to enter my name for me," I told him honestly. He looked down at me as though searching for another answer in my eyes. "You know me, Professor — never really been one for death at a young age."

That brought not a smile upon his lips, but a smile to his eyes. "And you know _me_ , Demetria — never really been one for watching one of my favorite students die at a young age," he told me whimsically, the grin still absent. "But I know I won't have to worry about that. You may be younger…but I know how strong you are…the skills you possess…You are the best in your year, one of the best in all. Not only will you survive…but you will _win_. You must prove yourself out there, Demetria… You must show everyone what you are capable of."

After I'd taken in Karkaroff's speech, having been so surprised that he didn't scold me or even yell, I felt there was something I had to ask him. "Professor?" He nodded for me to continue. "Aren't you…disappointed…that it's not Viktor?"

But rather than respond, he instead told me, "I will go in first and calm the others. They are undoubtedly in an uproar of sorts over your being chosen." And with that, he'd risen up the plank and climbed aboard the ship. Sure enough, I could hear shouts issuing from the cabins below deck.

So I _had_ disappointed Karkaroff. Then again, it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to me since he practically treated Viktor as his superior. But he was right about one thing, certainly — I would have to prove myself if I planned on winning the tournament. Come the first task, I would have to show them all what I was capable of, and despite my age, size, and possibly even gender, I would become the others' greatest threat — "Demetria!" — no matter what.

I made my way up the plank but before climbing aboard the ship, Karkaroff stopped me from just over the railing. "You are just as good a representation of this school as Viktor would have been," he told me genuinely. "Perhaps…even better."

I smiled gratefully, which he mirrored, as I swung my legs over the rail and landed on the wooden deck with a soft _thud_. Karkaroff and I headed in the same direction until parting at the doors of his private cabin, he disappearing behind them and I making my way below deck. There, the small staircase led me down into the ship's lantern-lit bowels, a collection of my fellow students practically attacking me once I'd reached our array of bunk-beds and cots. Mostly, though, there was a chorus of my name.

"Demetria! How ver you able to enter your name?"

"I didn't."

"Who put it in for you?"

"No one."

"How did you trick the Age Line?"

"I didn't!"

"It should have been me." Despite all of the commotion and the shouts, my ears easily detected the hushed comment of Nikolai. It silenced all other voices, everyone — myself especially — now looking toward Nikolai from the corner of the space.

"Well obviously it couldn't've been you, considering you put my name in." No, I didn't know it for a fact, but he was the only suspect I had at that point. But either Nikolai was incredibly good at hiding the fact that he did do it, or he just truly didn't, because he gave nothing away. His facial expression, his eye expression, his voice, his movements — it all remained smooth.

"Listen, _Princess_ ," he spat in his stride over to me. "if there is a thousand Galleon prize on the line vith a life of eternal glory, you had better understand that I vant _no one's_ name submitted but my own."

"Well, that's the only way you'd be chosen, Pavel," retorted Finn upon cutting through the small assembly. I had to admit that it was sort of a surprise to see him, of all people, jump in and defend me. But Viktor had actually chimed in next.

"Finnick has a point," he agreed. "You see, the Goblet of Fire chooses the name of the von most vorthy of competing, vich last time I checked…vas not you."

Snickers and cheers were passed along through the circle of blokes, though Nikolai didn't appear fazed in the slightest. Instead, he was quick to shoot back an insult at Viktor. "Who are you to talk, Krum?" he challenged. "I didn't exactly see _your_ name being shot out of the goblet."

"That is because I am not the best," said Viktor simply.

"But you're better than I am," I dropped my voice and spoke to him and him only. But evidently, it was still loud enough for Grigor to join forces…though not at all with the right side.

"Clearly he is not if you managed to cross an Age Line made by Albus Dumbledore," Grigor bitterly seethed.

At first, I simply had no words. I just stood there like a fool caught off guard with my lips slightly parted. One of my oldest and best friends didn't even believe me… _Grigor_ didn't believe me… Luckily, Finn and Viktor both quickly cleared out the crowd, the blokes all going to rest in their bunk-beds. Grigor then made his way angrily stomping up the stairs back on deck and Finn, Viktor, and I all followed.

"What was that, Grig?" I demanded.

"Vhat vas vhat, _Dem_?" he mimicked. Grigor's tone cut like a knife through the chilling evening air.

"You know damn well what!" I indignantly told him, despite both Finn and Viktor's attempts at quieting me so Karkaroff wouldn't wake. "Taking Pavel's side over mine?! The friend who has been there for you since _he_ planted Dungbombs in every single one of your clothes' pockets in your fourth year?!"

"Yes, vell clearly things such as that do not matter to you anymore, considering you never mentioned to me — not vonce — that you ver entering!" argued Grigor. "You even lied and told me you didn't vant to! But you knew how much I vanted this — to be Durmstrang's champion!"

"I don't want it!" I yelled in what felt like my final attempt at getting through to him. "I never wanted it! If I could just hand the title over to you, I would! But I can't! I never put my name in! I never told anyone to put my name in!"

Grigor looked as though he might finally believe me, as though he may finally have smiled and apologized and embraced me in one of his bone-crushing hugs. His expression of stone was softening, all anger melting away from those big, blue orbs of his, until it all had flowed back into place. And just before stomping past me, deliberately colliding his shoulder with mine, his words hung in the air with the same acid tone as before.

"You had better be getting your sleep, Princess. I vould not vant you tired for your undoubted photo shoot tomorrow morning."

It numbed me from the insides out, or had that just been the icy chills of the evening? Either way, I'd just lost one of the few people who probably would have believed me when I said I absolutely did _not_ put my name in the goblet.

:.:.:

The following morning, seeing as how there were no photo shoots as Grigor had mentioned, all I'd wanted to do was sleep. And so, considering it was a Sunday with no classes to worry about, that was exactly what I'd done. I'd actually practically slept the entire day away, for by the time I decided to rise, I'd made my way above deck and was revealed to an impending sunset. Not even having bothered to dress in any sort of Durmstrang uniform, I'd simply traded my plaid boxer shorts for a pair of leggings but left on the grey, long-sleeved Bulgaria shirt, it's sleeves hanging an extra two inches off my arms. And last but not least, my black combat boots had been laced up by the time I'd descended down the plank.

Upon making my way to the castle, I'd ducked my head into the Great Hall to find everyone already enjoying dessert. That was rather unfortunate, considering I truly was hungry. But all of a sudden, I was focused on something entirely different, for there came a voice in my ear whispering, "Who're you spying on?"

My heart skyrocketed out of my chest for a brief moment until I'd whipped around and found the cause of my heart attack to be non-other than George Weasley, Fred naturally at his side.

"Sorry I startled you, love," George apologized with a charming, yet mischievously lop-sided, grin. I'd taken a step away from the Hall's entrance to remain unseen and the twins had taken that same step to stand in front of me.

"Or should we say… _Princess_?" Fred teased. I took another side-step, but they'd mirrored my action.

" _Or_ should we say… _Demetria Harris_?"

Upon hearing that, it had taken a moment of realization to remind myself that they'd seen me the previous night when my name was called out for champion. Ugh, champion. I'd been so very close to genuinely forgetting all about that. Well, at least they didn't seem to be connecting any dots with my name…

"That's right, _Demetria_ —" said George in reference to my widened eyes.

"— Durmstrang champion," came Fred. "By the way —"

"— Congratulations," they both chorused.

"Didn't know you were of age," George admitted.

And though I'd opened my mouth to speak, I caught myself and simply shook my head. It was true that I no longer truly needed to pretend I couldn't speak English, but it certainly was rather amusing.

"You're not of age?" Fred inquired. I shook my head a second time. "So you got past the Age Line just like Harry!"

He beamed like a proud parent, but I simply turned to leave. It was stressful enough trying to convince people I hadn't put my name in when I could speak. I was certainly not about to attempt that explanation without words. But Fred and George both stopped me as I figured they would, blocking me every way I turned.

"Don't worry," George advised. "We believe you didn't put your name in."

I could feel my gaze actually soften as it rested upon the two of them. The corners of my mouth even raised in a small smile.

"Bulgaria, eh?" Fred commented, eyes scanning the red letters across my shirt. At least…that was what his eyes had _better_ have been scanning… "Seems we know who _you_ were rooting for at the Cup."

The Quidditch World Cup… Really? He was going to bring that up too? Would this bloke stop at nothing to ruin my evening?

"Speaking of," began George. "how's your leg?" And so rather than tell him, I showed him by rolling up the leggings on the correct leg until the scar from the gash was visible. "Arms?" I rolled down the leggings and pushed up my sleeves, stretching my arms out for him to survey.

"Breasts?" It was Fred's crude comment which caused me to pull the sleeves back down and attempt to maneuver past them again, but to no avail. "Sorry, sorry! Only joking!" he defended.

"Are you hungry?" George looked to me as though he already knew my answer, but I still gave a fervent nod. "Well then you'll have to say so."

"Sigurno se sheguvate," I mumbled under my breath, frustrated. **(** _ **You must be kidding**_ **)** And that time, I'd actually successfully glided past them and began making my way down the corridor until one of them called out to me.

It was George. "We never told you how to get into the kitchens, love!" he said in a sing-song way.

I stopped dead in my tracks and released a long sigh of defeat. George was, unfortunately, right. So upon turning, I reluctantly proceeded toward the twins, only to make my way out onto the grounds. They called out their chorus of "Goodnight, Demetria" as I continued toward the docks with an empty stomach. And no sooner had I climbed aboard the ship than did the rest of the Durmstrang lot begin their own march across the grounds. So to avoid their questioning of my whereabouts that day, I simply retired to my bunk-bed and feigned sleep until I truly did fall into a genuine slumber. But every now and again, a fierce growl from my stomach would awaken me until I finally couldn't take it any longer.

Clad in my plaid boxer shorts and still my long-sleeved Bulgaria shirt, I simply slid on a pair of Viktor's thick, wooly socks to act as slippers so I could sneak about the castle. I'd casted " _Lumos!_ " to ignite the tip of my wand and silently crept off the ship and across the grounds. But once I'd actually entered the castle, I'd nearly had another heart attack given by the same two troublesome people.

"Boo," George whispered.

"Son of a — !" Well, that cat was out of the bag. And by the light of Fred and George's wands (because I'd dropped mine), I could see the smirks plastered across their faces. I bent down to retrieve my glowing wand. "All right, fine, you caught me — I'm British, I speak English, there."

"Actually, we already knew that," Fred admitted.

I shot back up, wand in hand. "How?"

"Lee told us," they chorused.

"That little —"

"Easy, love," George soothed. "According to him, you had him promise not to tell Fred _and_ George…"

"So he told Fred _or_ George," pointed out Fred. "In which case, it was George, being that you're all he's been talking about since the Quidditch World Cup."

George had then smacked his twin upside the head with a rolled up piece of parchment. And though I wasn't entirely sure, by the glow of _Lumos_ , I thought I detected a slight rise of color to George's ears.

"Wait a minute," I said. "How did you gitsknow I'd be here?"

" _Gits_?" parroted Fred, hand over his heart and feigning offense. "Would we be _gits_ if I told you we'd been waiting here because we knew you'd be hungry and planned on taking you down to the kitchens?"

I had to admit, that was incredibly nice of them, but — "Why didn't you just take me down to the kitchens earlier then?" I wasn't angry nor accusing, just curious.

"Because earlier you weren't speaking to us —" defended George.

"— let alone in English."

"Besides…"

They both simultaneously finished with: "It's more fun when it's after hours."

But their sly grins had quickly snapped into alert expressions upon hearing the sound of footsteps. George then urgently unrolled the parchment and brought his wand tip to it and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good" and I watched as ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the wand's point. They joined eachother, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment until words began to blossom across the top, curly green words that proclaimed:

 _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

 _Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers_

 _are proud to present_

 _THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

I didn't get a very good look at the inside though, considering George had opened it and was quickly scanning it. And soon after, he had folded it back over and had pressingly said, "Filch is headed this way."

"C'mon then!" urged Fred in a hushed tone.

He took off first, George taking me by the wrist and moving me along with him. All three of us kept our wands out to light the way and George had handed off the Marauder's Map to Fred, being that his hand was busy nearly holding mine.

"What's the Marauder's Map?" I whispered.

"Well, that's sort of a long story," said George, the three of us speeding along down the corridor.

"Then give me the short version," I insisted, George then freeing my wrist and clamping his hand over my mouth. We'd stopped running and Fred had checked the map again.

" _Shite_ ," he swore. "In here, lights out!"

Once I'd shoved George's hand away, we'd followed his brother and ducked into a bit of a narrow little cove. " _Nox!_ " We'd all whispered. And though I wasn't entirely sure what we were waiting for, I figured it had happened once the footsteps I assumed were Argus Filch's had come close and then turned back the way he'd came.

" _Lumos!_ " said Fred, wand pointed at the map. "Almost gone…"

"Fred, is that _your_ hand?" asked George.

"Hm?" Fred mumbled.

Shite, it was mine! I immediately snatched away the hand that was brushing against George's…erm, arse… Oh, it was an accident! The cove was only so big, you know!

"Very saucy, Princess," purred George. I slapped his arm and stepped out of the cove, both blokes following my action.

"It was an accident," I insisted, following Fred as he proceeded down the corridor.

"If you two love-birds can't keep your hands to yourselves —" Fred began to threaten.

"What's the Marauder's Map?" I asked again, mainly just to change the subject.

"Basically it was created by Harry Potter's father and his mates to show the whereabouts of everyone in the castle —" George began.

"— and everything they were doing —"

"— every minute —"

"— of every day."

"We knicked it from Filch's office first year —"

"— gave it to Harry our fifth year —"

"— but borrowed it for this evening just in case Filch showed up —"

"— which he did."

"Must you two switch off your sentences like that?" I asked.

"You get used to it," they chorused.

Fred then brought his wand back to the map and said, "Mischief managed" causing the map's contents to dissolve. He then raised his wand to ignite the huge portrait of fruit we know stood in front of. I watched in curiosity as he reached his hand out and tickled the football-sized pear, causing a doorknob to appear.

"Ladies first, your majesty," said Fred, both he and George bowing.

I rolled my eyes but stepped through the door he'd opened for me, revealing an enormous room identical to the Great Hall in more ways than one. Four lines of tables lined the room, copper pots and pans almost making the walls glimmer, with what had to be hundreds of house-elves scurrying about, reminding me of my own house-elf back home at Harris Manor — Tinker.

"Masters Fred and George!" squaked a small, and somehow familiar, voice upon the twins' step in front of me.

"Hey, Dobby!" greeted the boys.

Dobby? I moved past them and, sure enough, standing before me now was unmistakably the very same tennis ball-eyed elf that I'd seen running about Malfoy Manor a few years prior. To see him now safe from the abuse of Lucius Malfoy was a truly comforting sight to behold.

"Dobby, we'd like for you to meet —" But introductions between us were not necessary, which George had learned upon Dobby's cutting him off.

"Miss Demetria!" Dobby excitedly cried, wrapping his little arms around my waist.

"Hello there, Dobby," I returned, affectionately ruffing what little amount of hair he had atop his head. "How're you doing?"

"Dobby is doing very well, very well indeed!" he told me. "Can Dobby get you anything, miss?"

After a moment of musing, I told him politely, "A chicken and ham sandwich with a glass of pumpkin juice, if you don't mind, Dobby."

"Not at all!" he insisted, beaming, before turning to the twins. "For Masters Fred and George?"

They still appeared rather taken back, but Fred still replied with, "Pumpkin juice also", George then adding, "Make it three." And so with that, Dobby had scurried off deep into the kitchens, the twins following me as I made my way toward one of the long tables. I sat down at the one which would have been Slytherin had we been up in the Great Hall, simply out of habit. That was when the blokes plopped down at what would be the Gryffindor table, grinning over at me.

"Really?" I asked them, though bearing a smile of my own.

"Sorry, love," said George. "We've just been sorted into Gryffindor."

Catching on to their game, I stood up and told them, "I just transferred to Hogwarts and haven't been sorted yet."

"Ah, not to worry," Fred assured me, both he and his brother now standing also. "We can help with that."

He swiftly made his way over and took me by the hand to the back of the kitchens, the front of the tables. George then appeared at my side with a fair-sized copper pot in hand. But before I could ask what it was for, he'd gently placed it over my head, my laughter echoing from within it as it narrowed my vision to slits.

"What is this?"

"Why the Sorting Hat, of course!" replied George. "So let the Sorting begin!"

Fred had leaned in and began whispering in my pot-covered ear in a voice that must have mimicked the Sorting Hat. "Hmm… certainly not Ravenclaw, you are in no way smart enough…"

"I beg your pardon!" I said half-offended yet half-amused.

"Oh, very saucy, I see…"

"She touched my arse before, Sorting Hat!" George called out.

"That was an accident!" I told him yet again.

"That will certainly count towards which House you are sorted into," Fred told me seriously, though I could envision the grin upon his face. "Wait, what's this? I see a great deal of bravery…and loyalty…Why, you've even been messing around with those devilishly handsome Weasley twins — better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Removing the pot from my head, Fred began clapping his hand against it whilst George, seated at what would be the Gryffindor table, also applauded. Fred and I then went to join him, I sitting across from the pair of them.

"Congratulations on making it into Gryffindor!" praised George, extending his hand; we briefly shook. "I'm George Weasley —"

"— and I'm Fred Weasley." Fred and I shook next.

"I'm Demetria Harris," I 'introduced'. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

In that moment, Dobby had arrived before our table, placing down our orders. "Dobby thinks you would make a wonderful Gryffindor, Miss Demetria!" He beamed.

"Thank you, Dobby," I told him. But all at once, the grin had snapped like a rubber band into a hard line. Me — a Gryffindor? I couldn't possibly… What would Grandad — No, what would my _parents_ think? They'd been Slytherins…Death Eaters. It had been so long since I'd remembered there was a path expected of me that I must walk. Talk about dampening the mood.

"Something wrong, Demetria?" inquired George sincerely.

I put my smile back in place and assured him, "No, nothing."

"Then in _that_ case…" Fred began, raising his glass. "Here's to Gryffindor!"

"To Gryffindor!" The three of us clanked our glasses together before taking a swig of pumpkin juice, though my cheer was not nearly as enthusiastic.

From the first bite of my sandwich to the last, Fred and George had talked my ear off about the joke shop business they hoped to start once they'd finished school. They told me all about how they'd won a bet on the Quidditch World Cup with Ludo Bagman, but he'd been refusing to pay up…or even answer them at all. They also told me about their siblings and their parents, though really just in passing. It wasn't until we'd all finished our beverages that they asked of my own family.

Every trace of my smile had disappeared, the boys quickly observing that they'd struck a nerve. "Er, sorry," Fred awkwardly apologized. "We didn't mean —"

"No, I know," I assured him. And after a moment, I decided to break the silence, though I told not the entire truth. "They died when I was only a year old… I don't know what happened exactly. The only family I really know of is my grandad. I live with him out in Wiltshire."

"So if you live in England, why do you go to Durmstrang?" asked George carefully.

I shrugged. "Because that was where he went and he wants me to…follow in his footsteps. So he also doesn't want me becoming a huge Quidditch star like my father… He says I should do something more _useful_ with the other skills I possess."

"Quidditch star?" parroted Fred; I nodded. "You don't mean — Your father wasn't —"

"Aiden Harris, world famous Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados," I finished proudly.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, dumbfounded. "That's — He was — You must be _incredible_!"

"I've inherited his skills," I told him simply and with a grin.

"You'll have to play with us sometime," said George. "We're Beaters."

"We always get a game or two going back at the Burrow," Fred shared. The Burrow, as they'd told me, was what they nicknamed their home.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "You're on then."

"Ace!" Fred commented. "Oh, and you should tell your grandad to piss off."

" _Fred_ ," George whispered warningly to his brother; he didn't listen.

"No seriously, Georgie," he said before turning his attention back to me. "I mean you've got to do what you want, it's your life after all. Take us, for example: our mum would much rather us getting a ton of O.W.L.s and a respectable career like our brothers —"

"— but we're doing what we want, what makes us happy, just like you ought to," George chimed in.

"It's not that easy," I told them. It wasn't as though I hadn't thought of what they were telling me before.

"Look, just…think about it at the very least," Fred suggested. And before I could protest to tell him I had, he told me, " _Really_ think about it." He then stood and began calling for Dobby to thank him. George and I rose from our seats then also, but he'd stopped me before I could stride over to Fred and Dobby.

"Yes, George?" I prodded him when he'd opened his mouth but failed to utter words.

"You've just got to be…true to yourself," he told me simply before breaking out in a smile. "And don't be afraid to let that heart of yours decide, Princess."

"Oi! Love birds!" called Fred from the front of the kitchens. George and I merely rolled our eyes and made our way over to him.

Yeah, maybe one day I _would_ let this heart of mine decide…

:.:.:

For the rest of the week, being that Hogwarts classes were in session, my fellow classmates and I (and most likely those of Beauxbatons) had to keep ourselves entertained on our ship (and they in their carriage). The only time we were allowed to enter the castle — or even so much as leave the ship — was during meal times. But even then, it was all just appreciated as a change of scenery, at least for me it was. Not to say the food was bad, but the company wasn't anything special. Draco was usually always gawking over Viktor and Grigor still wasn't speaking to me, so that really only left me with Finn who I'd grown a great deal closer with. Well, Finn and a Slytherin sixth year by the name of Adrian Pucey. He was always trying to get involved in our conversation and Finn would always tease me about that Pucey bloke fancying me. It seemed he was right about that.

By the time Friday had arrived, we'd grown so incredibly sick of the bloody ship that a few blokes went to request permission to wander the grounds from Karkaroff. His reply had been: "If you are all having nothing to do, perhaps I should continue with lessons." That had ceased most complaints, though not all. But after lunch that day, was possibly the only time I'd felt thankful to be a champion. Just as people had begun exiting the Great Hall, a young Gryffindor girl had strode over to me at the Slytherin table. In fact, it was the red-headed girl from that night in the forest — probably Fred and George's sister.

"Hi, Demetria," she greeted brightly. "I don't know if you remember me —"

"Oh, I do," I assured her.

"— my name's Ginny Weasley," she introduced. "I'm s'posed to take you to meet with the other champions."

"Ace!" was my fervent reply. "D'you know how long it'll take?"

Ginny and I had commenced leaving the Hall side-by-side, I trying my best to ignore the daggers Grigor was sending me, Ginny then saying: "They didn't mention it," I followed her lead toward the steps to the entrance hall. "But they did mention taking photos."

"What d'they want them for?" I inquired. "Did they say?"

"The _Daily Prophet_ ," said Ginny as we stopped outside the closed door of the right room. "Well, this is it. Good luck in there."

I looked to her rather questioningly, but thanked her all the same. "Er, thanks... I'll see you around, Ginny."

"Considering you're all my brother can talk about, I'm sure you will," she laughed. "Or well, one of my brothers anyway."

"Right, you've got, what, six?" I asked, trying to recall the number of names Fred and George mentioned the other night when speaking about their family.

"Yeah, but only three at Hogwarts." She shrugged as though it were no big deal. To me it certainly wasn't. I could relate after all.

"I'd say that's a lot, but it sort of feels like all of the Durmstrang blokes are _my_ brothers," I said with a small smile.

"Yeah, I'd say you've got me beat there," Ginny mirrored it. "Though I doubt any of them ever jinxed your bras to dance around the house."

"Trust me, I've had my fair share of delicates dancing around the Durmstrang castle," I shared. "Waltz, salsa, you name it..."

Ginny and I continued to laugh until Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory had appeared just moments later behind the two of us. We immediately silenced ourselves as the two other champions opened the door and passed through, Cedric offering me a smile as he went, Fleur surveying me as though I shouldn't have even been there. And honestly, I didn't blame her. But as she gave a dramatic toss of her hair, Ginny advised me: "Don't let her get to you."

To which I replied, "I've got no reason to, it's just Phlegm — Oh, I mean Fleur."

Ginny gave one final laugh before I'd disappeared behind the door to the room which Cedric and _Phlegm_ had just passed through. It revealed a rather small classroom with most of the desks pushed away toward the back of it, so to leave a large space in the middle. Three desks, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Set up behind them were five chairs, Ludo Bagman occupying one of them and speaking with a witch in magenta robes — a witch I'd heard of but never seen for myself — Rita Skeeter.

"So, Demetria," began Cedric conversationally. Apparently he'd just stepped away from Fleur and whatever they'd briefly discussed, because I watched the smile on her face dissolve into a glare...towards me. "you're the only girl at Durmstrang?"

"Yeah, it's just me and a heap of testosterone-filled gorillas with thick accents," I told him seriously, though my comment did earn a few laughs. Fleur, of course, didn't laugh though. If anything, her frown only deepened. What the bloody hell did I ever do to this girl?

"Oh, that's funny — You're funny, Harris," praised Rita Skeeter as her two-inch crimson nails dug around her crocodile-skin handbag to retrieve a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment. But rather than write it down herself, she placed the tip of the quill in her mouth and sucked it for a moment before telling it: "Make sure you get that."

The quill sprang to life and began scribbling down what was apparently my funny remark on the parchment. And despite my attention being turned back to Cedric to continue our conversation, Rita had begun launching questions of her own at me.

"So, Demetria — Can I call you Dem?" But she didn't wait for my reply as she continued on. "— how does it feel to be the only girl competing in this year's Triwizard Tournament?"

"What am I zen?" Fleur scoffed, her expression that of insult.

"Oh, right…" said Rita, apparently just noticing Fleur for the first time. She then told her quill, "Scratch that. Dem, how does it feel to be chosen as the Durmstrang champion out of a group of all boys? When you submitted your name did you honestly think you'd be chosen?"

"I didn't put my name in," I told her simply. But I knew she'd try to get some sort of answer out of me.

"We can continue this interview in private if you'd rather not say it in front of the others," she whispered to me.

"I've nothing to hide," I told her. "because I truly did not put my name in the goblet."

"I wonder when you will finally give up on zat lie," said Fleur sharply.

"Actually, Fleur," I countered, keeping my irritation in check. "I don't intend on giving up on it because it's the truth."

"Oh please," she said. "You and zat ozar boy 'ave cheated some'ow."

"Harry and I didn't cheat." My anger was beginning to seep through into my tone. Luckily though, Cedric had stepped in.

"You and 'Arry 'ave — !"

"Give it a rest, Fleur," Cedric ordered her, though completely calm. "Demetria and Harry didn't put their names in."

Thank Godric for Cedric Diggory or I surely would have ripped the veela hair right out of pretty ickle Fleur's head. And as an added distraction, Harry Potter had just walked through the door which was beneficial in more ways than one, for Rita Skeeter had found new prey. I just felt a twinge of pity for Harry, the poor bloke unaware of how quickly a hunter such as Skeeter would pounce. Although, the first person to pounce on Harry was actually Bagman.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment —"

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're our most important tools in the tasks ahead," Bagman explained airily. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot."

A sort of weight could be felt on my chest upon hearing the words _photo shoot_. It pained me to recall Grigor's last words to me, but they came rushing immediately:

 _"...Vouldn't vant you tired for your undoubted photo shoot tomorrow morning."_

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" I couldn't tell who Rita was speaking to, being that her eyes were fixated on Harry, but I assumed it was Bagman. "The extra champion, you know...to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman couldn't have cried it out loud enough. "That is — if Harry has no objection?"

"Er —" was all Harry had uttered before Rita took that as his affirmation. And in a second, she'd gripped Harry's arm and taken him through a nearby door.

"What about Cedric and I?" Fleur asked Bagman, outraged. "Are we not important enough to be interviewed?"

"Are you mad?" I dared to ask her. "That woman's a nightmare. Who in their right minds would _want_ to be interviewed by her?"

Fleur's expression had gone sour as she turned to face me. "I just zink it is only fair to include all champions…especially since we are of age."

It was evident Fleur and I could not control ourselves. Whenever one set of claws was put away, the other's came out. This half-breed was too sodding impossible to deal with. So I turned to Bagman and asked him, "Can I leave?" Because truthfully, the remainder of my day on that ship was sounding better and better with each passing minute.

But Bagman just gave a laugh and told me, "I'm afraid not, Demetria. But not to worry, the interview will only take a moment."

"But perhaps if we are all ready now…?" Albus Dumbledore seemed to appear out of thin air with an old, pale-eyed wizard standing at his side. "We could begin?"

"Yes, of course!" Bagman told him cheerfully.

And so Dumbledore went to fetch Harry from…well, wherever that door led…and taking their seats at the judges' table were Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Crouch, and Bagman. Harry appeared thrilled to be rid of that woman as he'd hurried back into the room, Rita Skeeter trailing behind. Myself and the rest of the champions were instructed to take a seat in a chair by the door, Rita plopping herself down in a corner with her quill at the ready. Fleur and I had each occupied an end seat to be as far from one another as possible at that time, and Cedric had taken the seat next to mine. Harry came over lastly and was stuck beside Fleur…tough luck.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and gesturing to the old wizard. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

The old wizard, his pale eyes shining like moons, stepped into the empty space in the middle of the room. "Mademoiselle Delacour," he said. "could we have you first, please?"

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm…" He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully. "Yes, nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…"

"'An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," supplied Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes," said Ollivander. "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Why shouldn't it? Fleur was temperamental herself.

Ollivander then continued to run his fingers along the wand before muttering, " _Orchideous!_ " and a bunch of flowers had burst from the wand's tip. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order. Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur collected the flowers which Ollivander had handed to her, gliding back to her seat and smiling flirtatiously at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Ollivander enthusiastically said upon receiving Cedric's wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches…ash…pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition… You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric told him proudly.

Several gold sparks shot out of the end of Harry's wand from one seat over. I couldn't help but release a giggle at his desperate attempt at cleaning his wand with a fistful of robe. And though he gave me a sheepish grin, he didn't desist until he caught sight of Fleur's patronizing glance.

Ollivander had sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronouncing himself satisifed and then said, "Miss Harris, if you please."

I rose and retreived my wand from the inside of my combat boot, Cedric offering me a warm smile as we passed. I placed the wand into Ollivander's hands and he turned it all sorts of ways, examining it with a scrutinizing expression.

"Curious," he whispered before speaking directly to me. "Very curious that this wand would choose you, Miss Harris."

"What d'you mean?" I inquired. For never, not even when I'd first recieved the wand at eleven years old, was it ever thought to be _curious that it would choose me._

But Ollivander had ignored my question and instead asked me one of his own. "Tell me, who is it's maker?"

"My grandad's brother — my great uncle," I said. He'd died before I had the chance to meet him or at least to know him at an age that I could remember him. And though Grandad never really spoke of him (or any other family, for that matter) he'd told me all about his brother's wand-making. My wand had been one of the few left unsold when he'd passed away. I'd tried them all out but that was the one that chose me.

"Wand-maker Felix Harris?" clarified Ollivander; I nodded. His eyes then returned to examine the wand. "Ten and a quarter inches…ash… Tell me, Miss Harris…what do you know of Augureys?"

"Isn't it some sort of Phoenix?" I said after a moment. "Er, thin and mournful looking? Greenish-black feathers?" I could detect a single snicker from Fleur behind me.

Ollivander gave an odd sounding sort of chuckle. "Augureys are the phoenixes of Ireland, and were once associated with powerful, Dark wands. Their cries were thought to signify an upcoming death —"

"Do zey not sing when eet eez about to rain?" Fleur chimed in.

"That they do, Miss Delacour, that they do." Ollivander's eyes had never left mine, and that silly grin remained plastered across his face.

"Er," I absentmindedly shifted, feeling a tad uncomfortable. "so why exactly is this so curious?"

"You see…the tail feather of an Augurey has only ever been known to have been used in one wand — the very wand which has chosen you," Ollivander explained. "It had been thought that such a wand core would be fit for a Dark witch or wi —"

"I'm no Dark witch," I firmly protested, though my stomach churned upon remembering that was what Grandad had expected of me…perhaps even my parents.

"Oh, I'm quite certain of that, Miss Harris," Ollivander assured me. "Which is why the current theory remains to be that this particular phoenix's tail feather would be found in the core of a wand belonging to one who is…shall we say…?" he racked his brain for a moment in order to conjure up the appropriate word. He finally settled upon: "misunderstood."

I still wasn't entirely sure how all of that was supposed to make me feel. But regardless, Ollivander had continued on with, "Yes, yes, _misunderstood_. For you see, the wand itself is interpretted all wrong. Many believe that because this wand core is so very rare, it possesses extraordinary powers. _But_ , it is actually _meant_ for one of extraordinary powers and abilities. Truly an example of brain over brawn this creation is, Miss Harris… _Avis!_ "

My wand had let off a blast like that of a gun, a number of small, twittering birds shooting out the end of it. They soared through the open window and into the watery sunlight.

"Excellent," commented Ollivander upon handing my wand back to me. "Which leaves…Mr. Potter."

The dark brown wood in my hands felt almost as though I was receiving it for the first time all over again. I was now aware of the power it possessed…No wait, the power _I_ possessed…with it. And though my eyes were practically glued to the wand, I managed to tear them up and away for a split second to shoot Harry an encouraging smile which he reflected. And then once Ollivander had finished examining Harry's wand, eventually shooting a fountain of wine out of it, Dumbledore rose to speak.

"Thank you all. You may go back to your lessons now — or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end."

But just as we had all turned to leave, the man with the smoking black camera, whom I'd barely noticed, cleared his throat and reminded Bagman.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" he cried gleefully. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

Son of a banshee! I'd completely forgotten about her! No doubt she would be publishing some sort of twisted article on my wand. Spreading word all over Great Britain that I was some sort of _misunderstood Dark witch_. Oh yes, she'd certainly have a field day with that.

"Er — yes, let's do that first," said Rita Skeeter before her eyes had found Harry's. "And then perhaps individual shots." All right, honestly, if she was only interested in photos of Harry couldn't the rest of us have left? Apparently not.

The photographs had taken an exceptionally long time between Madame Maxime casting everyone into shadow, Karkaroff continuing to twirl his goatee, and the photographer and Rita having a silent argument over who should be in greater prominence. The photographer wanted Fleur, and Rita, of course, wanted Harry; after the brief separate shots of all champions, we were finally free to go. I'd practically burst out the doors and headed down for the Great Hall, but when I heard footsteps hasening to catch up with me I just prayed they weren't Rita's.

"Guess we really didn't need to be in the photos, eh?" It was Cedric.

"I was actually surprised she didn't just leave us in Madame Maxime's shadow," I agreed.

He chuckled, a smile spreading across his handsome — Er, did I say handsome? I meant, erm, anyway… It touched his bright grey eyes and — What was I saying again?

"Well, er, I'll see you," I told him upon reaching the Great Hall. And I hadn't even waited for his reply as I made a bee-line for the Slytherin table, for the last thing I needed was a distraction during this tournament…or even worse — a reason to stay at Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 4: The Dragon's Nest

_**Chapter Four**_

 _The Dragon's Nest_

:.:.:

 _Grandad_ —

 _Sorry it's taken me this long to write. Things have just been a bit hectic around here what with the tournament and all. Hogwarts is incredible, by the way. But anyway, the goblet selected the three champions from each school about a week ago, and it turns out there were some exceptions which needed to be made. For starters, there are actually four champions._

 _Fleur Delacour is the Beauxbatons champion_ — _a stuck up half-veela. Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts champion, but there was also another chosen. Mad-Eye Moody believes someone charmed the goblet into thinking there were four schools because Harry Potter was chosen as the other Hogwarts champion. And as for Durmstrang...I'm the champion. But I didn't put my name in! Someone else must've!_

 _That being said, I reckon it's all beginning to sink in and I'm actually growing worried about the first task. It's only days away but it feels more like hours. I've absolutely no idea what I'll be up against come the 24th of November, and I wager that's what's got me so anxious... Oh well. Wish me luck, I suppose._

 _Oh, and another thing_ — _How come you never told me how rare my wand core is? Did you know Great Uncle Felix made it with the tail feather of an Augurey?_

 _Well, that's it. So again, wish me luck._

— _Demetria_

Up in the Owlery of Hogwarts, I whistled for an owl to deliver my letter to Grandad. A fair-sized brown owl swooped in before me and I placed the envelope in between it's beak. "To Carlisle Harris," I told it, running a gentle hand down it's head in thanks. And so, mouth too pre-occupied to hoot, it merely blinked it's silver eyes in comprehension and took off out the window.

In days — _days_ — I would be facing Merlin-knows-what in Merlin-knows-where and I couldn't stand it. I simply _had_ to know what was was waiting for me for the first task.

I'd made my way down from the the Owlery tower and very quickly found myself amidst a sea of students bearing pins which read in luminous red letters:

SUPPORT **CEDRIC DIGGORY** —

THE **REAL** HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

I'd even passed by a particular group of Hogwarts students pressing said badges to their chests, only to have the message change and glow in green:

POTTER STINKS

Poor Harry. I honestly couldn't help feeling bad for him — having to put up with nearly his entire school turning on him, including his best friend and Fred and George's youngest brother Ron. Not to mention that rubbish Rita Skeeter had published ten days prior. Not only was it centered on Harry himself, but I was positive Rita had fabricated every one of Harry's interview 'answers'.

Speaking of, much to both my surprise and appreciation, Rita Skeeter hadn't published anything on my 'misunderstood' wand…yet, anyway. But back to Harry, and even the interview, I caught sight of him making his way down the corridor as numerous Slytherins shouted quotes from the article at him.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this — ?"

But I didn't even allow the speaker to finish, for I'd already called Harry's name from down the hall. "Hey — Harry!"

"Yeah, that's right!" he wheeled around and shouted out. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more…"

"Ace," I commented with a smirk upon nearing him. "We can cry over our dead mums together."

Color rose in Harry's face as his hand sheepishly reached for the back of his neck. "Er, right — Sorry…Demetria — I didn't know it was you."

"That's all right, Harry," I assured him. "Just wanted a quick word with you, if you can spare it?"

His hand dropped to his side, though he still appeared somewhat taken aback. "Yeah, sure — Of course," he said. So we disappeared from the sight of those taunting Slytherins around the corner, Harry seeming to have relaxed now. "What's up?"

"I don't mean to bring up a sore spot, and forgive me if this is too personal," I began, Harry growing a bit on edge once again upon hearing that. "but Fred and George told me about your fighting with Ron," He then appeared as though he wanted to be angry but, for whatever reason, he kept it in check. "I just wanted to say that…well, my being champion has caused the same problem between myself and a good friend of mine. He doesn't believe me, Ron doesn't believe you —"

"Neither does the rest of the school, unfortunately." A facial expression which had just begun to soften then hardened once again.

"Look, I know it's not really my place, but I just wanted to let you know that…we're on the same side here," I told him wholeheartedly. "And don't worry, Ron'll come around sooner or later. Not even your entire school can keep this up forever. So just — y'know — hang in there and don't let them get to you."

Finally, Harry had composed himself, all anger melting from those emerald green orbs. "Thanks…really," he said in a tone of surprise, offering me a small smile which I returned. "I'm sure your friend'll come around soon too."

I sighed. "Here's hoping." But just as I'd turned to make my way back down the corridor from which I'd just come, Harry had called out my name. I pivoted to face him. "Yeah?"

"You said you had a, um…" He took a moment to consider finishing before evidently deciding against it. "Er, forget it. I'll see you around, Demetria."

"Alright," I shrugged. "See you, Harry."

–

Sunday morning had absolutely nothing to offer, other than the building tension about the first task. And quite frankly, preparing myself to face the unknown wasn't exactly how I'd planned to spend it. Granted, I could have very well joined a great deal of the Hogwarts population in visiting the wizarding village of Hogsmeade, but I truly wasn't in the mood. Though if there were ever a time I would desperately need a bit of fun, that time was now…Finn didn't allow me to forget that as we sat among the Slytherins in the Great Hall for breakfast.

"C'mon, Dem," he attempted to coax. "The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, _Zonko's_ … You know you love Zonko's…"

"Finn, I've already told you — I'm not going. If you want to go so badly, just take Viktor or someone before you wet yourself," I told him, only half-joking.

"Finn does have a point though, Demetria," Viktor chimed in. "It vould be vise to get your mind off of this task and just relax."

"I do not need to relax, Vik," I firmly insisted. "And I wish you'd all stop telling me that!"

Suddenly, the glass of pumpkin juice Draco was about to drink from, shattered right before us. All three blokes turned to look at me, eyes narrowed skeptically. "You were saying…?" said Draco.

Burying my head in my hands, I took deep breaths in an attempt to compose myself. When I felt calmed, I lifted my head, gaze darting between the three of them. "See — I'm fine," I assured.

"Vhy, if it isn't the Durmstrang Champion descending from on high to mingle with the commoners," came Grigor's acidic tone as he passed with Nikolai. The latter came up behind me and shoved my face into the bowl of Pixie Puffs which, up until that point, hadn't served any purpose. Nikolai and Grigor both strode off snickering just before my composure was disturbed, resulting in revealing the pair's boxers. They whipped around, probably expecting to have seen me standing right behind them, but had clearly forgotten magic required no such movement.

The Great Hall began to notice the two of them and commenced laughter, which I would have done myself had it not been for my cereal-soaked face and both my irritation and stress levels through the Hall's enchanted ceiling. So instead, after wiping the cereal off, I stood from the bench and pushed past the two barmpots struggling to grasp their trousers. Never did I think I'd have to turn on Grigor like I did, but that git needed to come to his senses.

"Demetria!" called out a voice just as I'd exited the Great Hall. Upon pivoting, I found it to be…

"Oh hey, Cedric." Irritation now in check, I was able to greet the Hufflepuff with a small grin.

"Er, nice job back there," he commented, one hand snaking nervously around the back of his neck.

"Thanks, they deserved it," I told him, the two of us beginning to stroll down the corridor with no particular destination in mind. "So, you going to Hogsmeade today?"

"Actually, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about," he admitted, smiling sheepishly and dropping his hand to his side. "I was wondering if you'd…Well, if you'd fancy going with me…?"

I couldn't say I was completely surprised considering how nervous he was. From what I'd seen for myself, Cedric Diggory was hardly someone I'd deem that type. But regardless of how much I suddenly thought going to Hogsmeade was a good idea after all, I knew I couldn't go with Cedric. After all, I was beginning to stray from the path expected of me as it was. Surely an entire afternoon with someone like Diggory would knock me clear off of it.

"I'd love to, Cedric, but I can't," I was forced to tell him. "I already told a mate of mine I'd go with him."

But the crestfallen reply of Cedric was something I never did get the chance to hear, for who should appear out of the Hall but none other than Finn. He beamed as he made his way over, bright green eyes gleaming. "You've decided to go then?"

Well, it appeared I was going to Hogsmeade either way… "Yeah," I admitted.

"Ace!" commented Finn before catching sight of Cedric. "Hey, you're Cedric, right?"

"That's right — Cedric Diggory," he introduced, shaking Finn's hand briefly. "And you are…?"

"Finn Archer," he supplied. "Pleased to meet you. Y'know, you're free to join us if you'd like."

Cedric seemed to look to me for approval to which I grinned in reply. There was clearly no avoiding this day spent with Diggory anyway. I might as well have encouraged it.

"I'd be honored," said Cedric, his smile directed towards me.

–

All right, so perhaps I _was_ in need of a trip to Hogsmeade. The afternoon sky had arranged itself since morning and I found myself completely relaxed underneath it. Cedric, Finn, and I continued to wander through the picturesque little village of thatched cottages and shops, paying visit to whichever ones we passed. But as we stepped out of Honeydukes Sweetshop, I had just taken a bite of a Liquorice Wand when the November wind chill whipped against my face. And despite my hardly ever being cold, I released a shiver which Cedric noticed.

"Cold, Demetria?" he observed with concern, his hand already clutching his jacket's zipper.

I simply pulled my own jacket closer to my body and assured him, "That's alright, Cedric. I'm fine."

"Yeah, no worries, Ced," Finn chimed in, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "Norway's brought us colder days than this."

"Well, at least take this," Cedric insisted, unraveling the yellow and black striped scarf from around his neck. After he draped the Hufflepuff colors around my own neck, I smiled at him graciously. He returned it and we found ourselves simply standing there and, well…smiling.

"Butterbeer, anyone?" Finn thankfully interrupted; I eagerly nodded. "On second thought, we haven't even been to Zonko's yet!" Finn then took Cedric and walked directly behind me.

"Finn, what're you doing?" I questioned, attempting to turn around. He let me do no such thing.

"Shielding you," came his reply as though it were obvious.

But before I could inquire as to what exactly he was shielding me from, Cedric had told me after a quick glance around. "Rita Skeeter," he informed me.

And so regardless of Finn and Cedric's human shield, I pivoted and fell victim to curiosity. Sure enough, Rita Skeeter and her photographer friend had just emerged from the Three Broomsticks pub. Speaking in low voices, they had just passed by that Hermione Granger without so much as a second glance to her. I then began to wonder why Hermione was in the village alone. She had to have friends, didn't she?

But unfortunately, curiosity killed the cat…Or well, got the attention of the twisted reporter, for Rita Skeeter was making a rather fierce bee-line right toward me. So pretending I didn't even see her, I innocently called out Hermione's name and ran to catch up with her, Finn and Cedric trailing behind.

"Hermione, there you are!" I called out for Rita's sake before dropping my voice lower for Hermione. "Just go with it, I don't want that woman bombarding me with her questions."

Hermione blinked her big brown eyes in understanding before calling out, "Demetria, you're late!" and then dropping her voice as well. "Yes well, she did make a right mess out of Harry's story, didn't she?"

"She's gone," said Finn from beside me. "Now, how about that butterbeer?" He and Cedric made for the entrance, whilst I stood back a moment with Hermione.

"Y'know, if you're not here with anyone, you could join us?" I invited.

She looked off to the side with a questioning look before turning back to face me. "Thank you, Demetria, but I'm s'posed to be meeting Ron and Harry here very soon."

"Have they made up?" I couldn't help but inquire.

"That's what I'm hoping to get them to do." She smiled.

"All right, well good luck." I mirrored her's before entering the pub myself. Finn and Cedric hadn't wandered far, still lingering close to the front door. So upon spotting me, we all went to hunt down a table in the crowded pub. Though it wasn't packed nearly enough for me to miss Ron already seated with Fred, George, and Lee. I considered going to tell Hermione, but she was probably still waiting for Harry anyway.

"It doesn't look as though we'll be finding a table of our own," Cedric observed.

"Well then why not with them?" I pointed to the spacey booth occupied by the three Weasleys and Lee.

"Ace," commented Finn who began making his way over. I followed, Cedric insisting on going to buy the drinks.

Ron appeared to be in the midst a dreadfully boring story until Finn and I appeared and brought a smile to the three other boys' faces. "Have room for three more?" I asked them.

"Absolutely!" was Fred's relieved response. He and the others shifted and I climbed in first, now seated between George and Finn. "So where's the third member of your party?"

"Or have you seriously miscounted?" teased George.

"He's getting our drinks," Finn explained.

"You're here with Pretty Boy then are you, Demetria?" asked Fred, reaching and tugging on my scarf in jest.

I unwrapped it from around my neck and placed it on the table. "Yes, _we're_ here with _Cedric_ ," I corrected him, though maintaining a smile.

"What?!" asked Ron, outraged. "Diggory?! I refuse to sit with the enemy!"

"Now now, ickle Ronniekins," said George patronizingly. "don't go getting your boxers in a bunch."

"Besides, if anyone's going to be the enemy here," came Finn. "it's clearly Demetria."

"Well Demetria didn't turn the entire school against —"

Ron didn't even have to finish. We all knew who he meant. And though it wasn't my place, I found myself telling him, "Why don't you go make up with him, Ron?"

"Make out with him, you say?!" Fred continued to joke, he and George now directing kissy faces at their younger brother.

"Er, am I interrupting something?" Cedric asked upon arriving, sliding three butterbeers on the table.

"Just Fred and George being tosspots," I informed him. "Nothing new."

They both stuck out their tongues at me and I returned the childish gesture. I was beginning to fit in all too dangerously well around here.

–

It was nearly midnight, the sun long gone and already tucked beneath the horizon line, but the Durmstrang blokes and I had decided to remain on deck that evening. Some played Exploding Snap or Wizard's Chess, others merely engaged in conversation, and then there were a select few who were pitifully attempting to woo a few Beauxbatons birds in French. I, however, kept away from it all, the First Task having crept back into my mind. So I sat on the starboard railing, wrapping my arms around the knees I'd brought up close to my chest, and watched the pale moon reflect itself perfectly in the Black Lake. The waters were calm, humming a gentle lullaby against the ship as it swayed ever-so-slightly with the lake. It had actually began to soothe me despite the blokes' noise, until there came a sudden angry outburst à la Beauxbatons.

Bounding down from the railing, I made my way over to the port side and watched in amusement with the others as Nikolai and a few other blokes endured the girls' fierce, French scolding. But only when my eyes found Grigor down there among them did I feel any sort of remorse. When would he finally forgive me and realize I never put my name in, never wanted to be the school's champion? Would it take my bloody death in the tournament?! Godric, I hoped not.

Finally, with Fleur predictably their ring leader, the girls' began marching toward their carriage, dramatically swishing their hair behind them as they went. The blokes, appearing both defeated and somewhat offended, made their way back on deck. And though normally I would be inclined to a snide comment regarding Nikolai's striking out I bit my tongue, for I was in no mood for what would then ensue. And though I was a bit surprised he didn't have anything to say to me as he passed, I was far more shocked that Grigor actually stood before me with regret pouring from those big brown orbs of his. He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps even apologize, but it snapped into a hard line just as quickly, envy eating away at any trace of kindness in his eyes.

Turning to leave, he roughly collided with my shoulder and threw me off balance. I would have fallen had it not been for Viktor.

"Forgive him, Demi," said the Bulgarian Quidditch star wisely, one arm snaked around my waist. "There is no darkness, but ignorance."

Though at this point, one could hardly call it ignorance. Grigor knew I was right, he was just too prideful to admit his being a git and apologize. But I also knew it was only a matter of time before he came around…at least I hoped so anyway. Grigor was never one for giving up so easily.

"Oi, Princess!" And speaking of not giving up…

I looked back out over the port railing and Fred and George Weasley standing as close to the edge of land and lake as possible. "Well if it isn't the Ginger Mingers," I jested; their smirks, naturally, remained intact.

"Pet names already, love?" retorted George.

"At least take us on a proper date first," Fred joined in.

I looked to Viktor who appeared rather amused and rolled my eyes. "Can I help you with something, gents?" I called back out to them.

"Not this evening, no," replied Fred.

Naturally, George came next and said, "But _we_ can help _you_ with something."

Knowing those two, it couldn't have been anything good, but my curiosity had gotten the best of me as I passed Viktor and made my way down the ramp and off the ship, the twins meeting me at the bottom.

"What're you two on about?" I immediately inquired.

George offered a lop-sided grin and asked as though he already knew: "Worried about the First Task?"

"Nothing to be worried about, Weasley." I kept up my rather convincing bluff, the lie so smooth in comparison to my skin chilling at the very mention of it.

"I dunno, Princess," cooed Fred. "People have died in the tournament, after all."

Confidence regained, I crossed my arms with my weight shifted to the right and clarified, "If you're referring to the incident in 1792, no Champion was actually killed. The three judges were simply injured."

"Oi, regardless…" began Fred, the smirk never faltering. "If _I_ were Champion, I'd want to at least know what I'd be up against."

"Oh and I suppose _you_ two could tell me?" I asked, slightly amused.

"We _could_ tell you…" Fred looked to his twin.

"… _or_ we could show you." His baby blue eyes darted between myself and the Forbidden Forest.

No matter which I chose — ignoring the twins or not — neither would cure my anxiety. I would either scare myself with the endless possibilities of what the task would be, or I would be worried about what I actually knew it to be. So considering I was out of luck on that anyway, I couldn't find a reason to turn down their offer. Unless…

"Is this some sort of trick?" I couldn't help asking, as though I'd get a truthful response from them if it was.

"Come now, love," came Fred's smooth attempt at coaxing. "Though we may be what some would call ' _trouble_ '…"

"…there's no tricks when lives are on the line," said George wholeheartedly.

But I couldn't even summon a response to that, for I actually found myself lost in how sincere George Weasley could be. My expression must have still read disbelief because the twins both raised their hands to their hearts and simultaneously recited, "We solemnly swear it."

"Alright then," I'd decided, but then a second thought had dawned on me. "What's in it for you two?"

We started toward the forest, one twin per side of me, when Fred looked to me in mild amusement and asked, "Long way from home then, are you?"

"And what's that s'posed to mean?" I could sense the twins exchanging significant looks from either side of me, but my eyes remained fixed on the edge of the forest.

Fred began. "Well, if those Durmstrang blokes of yours are only willing to trade favors —"

"— allow Freddie and I to be your prime example of gentlemen." When I'd finally turned my head to show George my skeptical brow, he cut right to it. "Nothing's in it for us, love. Just here to help you."

"And spend this romantic, moon-lit evening with a pretty bird rather than the sad, red puppy dog who's been tailing us all day," added Fred with a playful wink, Ron being the puppy.

"So then where's this pretty bird of yours?" I teased, nudging Fred. "Seems to me she's stood you blokes up." The three of us stood before the Forbidden Forest now, not a spec of moonlight could be seen through it.

"Seems to me that you're right."

"At least we've still got you, Demetria," said George, joining in.

I laughed despite myself and the boys smiled, apparently pleased with themselves. "You blokes do know where you're going, don't you?" I asked as the three of us began to delve deeper into the forest.

" _Lumos Maxima_!" Fred called out, and the darkness which once swallowed us up was being pushed aside by a massive ball of light at the end of Fred's wand.

"'Course we do, Princess," George replied instead. "But I'd still recommend watching your step, for as we recall —"

His twin joined him in saying, "— forests are not your strong suit."

I was beginning to think I'd never hear the end of it — the incident at the World Cup, which was undoubtedly what they were referring to. But given the state they'd found me in — all cut up and bleeding and what have you — I suppose it made sense for them to worry. Although with everything lit up in front of us for about five feet, I'd say I was more than capable of navigating my way through and remaining unscathed.

"Oi, Georgie," Fred's whisper cut through what had once been nothing more than the sounds of our footsteps. "You don't reckon Hagrid'll be out here, d'you?"

"Hagrid?" I parroted curiously, and louder than intended.

Suddenly, a man's deep voice seemed to boom throughout the forest as he called out in an unfamiliar accent, "Who's there?"

Fred fiercely whispered " _Nox_!" And once our eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could make out the shapes of one another, he sarcastically teased, "A bit louder, Demetria. Don't think he quite got our location."

"Well who the bloody hell is he?" I demanded. "Or _what_ is he?"

"Well now we know that Harry knows about the —"

But George had thrown his hand over his twin's mouth and began to speak instead, answering my question.

"He's the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts," he explained. "Half-giant."

"Is that…what I'm facing in the First Task?" I inquired almost sheepishly.

"If only, love," was George's genuinely saddened response.

"These groun's er off limits!" came the voice of Hagrid once again.

"I am sure eet eez nothing, 'Agrid," insisted the all-too-familiar voice of Madame Maxime. "Now tell me, 'ow much farzer?" But her question was answered just as mine was, for there came an unmistakable, earsplitting roar.

I turned to face the twins though I could hardly decode their expressions. "Why don't you go on ahead?" George suggested. "Just keep out of sight."

"See if you can find Harry," said Fred fervently.

And though confused I nodded, not that they could see it. But I moved as quickly and quietly as I could toward the two giant figures. So with my eyes stuck on them, I failed to notice whatever I then collided with in front of me, though even when I looked it appeared as though nothing were there.

"Demetria?" I heard someone say. It almost sounded like —

"Harry?" And no sooner had I said it, then did that very green-eyed and scarred face appear before me. Harry then stood and helped me to my feet, a silverish cloak of sorts held in his hands. "Is that an — ?"

"Invisibility Cloak, yeah," he replied, tossing it around the both of us. "It was my dad's. What're you doing here?"

"Fred and George Weasley said they could show me what we'd be facing in the First Task," I didn't even bother lying; another roar sounded just as deafening as the first. "And I'm hoping to Godric it's not that."

But I knew as well as Harry did that it was — whatever it was. And suddenly, a collection of bonfires were mirrored in those deep green orbs, and there came the reflection of men darting around them in those round spectacles. But I didn't turn around to see for myself until Harry's mouth fell open. And upon turning, I did the same.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons… _dragons_! They were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting with torrents of fire shooting into the dark sky. One of them, silvery-blue, had long, pointed horns and was snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground. I imagined it snapping its fanged mouth at me. Another, smooth-scaled and green, was writhing and stamping with all its might. I imagined myself underneath its giant feet. A third, red with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, shot mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air. I imagined myself being shot into the sky along with them. And nearest to us stood a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others. I simply imagined this one swallowing me whole.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" yelled a wizard near the fence, straining on the chain he was holding to bound the beasts. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

Harry and I moved up a bit closer, the half-giant Hagrid, though large, still stood shorter than Madame Maxime. "Is'n' it beautiful?" he asked her softly.

"It's no good!" yelled another wizard. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!" Each of the dragon keepers pulled out their wands.

" _Stupefy_!" they shouted altogether, the spells shooting into the darkness like fiery rockets and then bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides. They continued to struggle to break lose of their bonds, but the wizards only tightened their grips on the chains.

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid excitedly asked Madame Maxime. Her answer must have been a 'yes' because the pair moved right up to the fence, as did Harry and I. And stepping forward then was the red-headed wizard who'd called out to Hagrid before. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said was the older Weasley brother who was a dragon keeper. After all, that would explain how they knew about the dragons. What was his name again? Chuckie…Chester…Chad…Sheldon?!

"All right, Hagrid?" Well whoever the sodding hell he was, he came panting over to Hagrid and Madame Maxime. "They should be okay now — we put them out with a Sleeping Draught on the way here, though it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet — but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all —"

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" Hagrid asked him. Charlie, of course! But had I really said Sheldon…?

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," said Charlie in reference to the closest dragon, the black one. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one — a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-grey — and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Just after Charlie's explanation, Madame Maxime was already strolling away along the edge of the enclosure, gazing upon the stunned dragons. Charlie chose this time to say, "I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid. The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming — she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

Oh, no doubt about that. I could just see the two of them squaking in French over it, probably sharing the information with every student in their ickle blue carriages.

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em." Hagrid shrugged his giant shoulders, though his eyes remained glazed over at the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie said, shaking his head.

But Hagrid simply ignored this comment and said, "Four… So it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do — fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I reckon," Charlie told him. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why…but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed at the Horntail's tail where long, bronze-colored spikes could be detected protruding along it every few inches. It sent a chill down my spine to think there was a chance I'd be up against that bloody beast come Sunday. Still speaking of it, five of the fellow keepers staggered up to the creature, carrying a clutch of huge granite-grey eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side and Hagrid released a sigh of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," said Charlie sternly before asking, "How's Harry?"

But Hagrid, still gazing at the eggs, only replied with, "Fine." I looked to Harry, his body already hardened like marble next to me, and saw the pool of worry in his eyes. And upon his turning to face me, we each swam in one another's.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot," Charlie said grimly. "I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task; she's already having kittens about him…" he then imitated who I would imagine to be Mrs. Weasley. "' _How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit! Not to mention now they've put Demetria's life in danger as well!_ ' Of course, Demetria Harris has more so been Remus's main worry. But Mum was in floods after that _Daily Prophet_ article about Harry. ' _He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!_ '"

If it were up to me, I would've stayed to find out why Mrs. Weasley cared so much for me, how she already knew me, and who the hell Remus was. But apparently, Harry had had enough and I was forced to follow him as he jerked away and began to walk off.

"Sorry about that," he said.

"Yeah," I said absentmindedly, dragons still on my brain. "What? Oh, right — It's fine."

"Just one question…" prodded Harry, the two of us having come to a halt.

"How d'you know Mrs. Weasley…and Remus Lupin?" he asked exactly what I was wondering myself.

"I don't ever remember meeting either of them," I assured him. "I'm sure they're just concerned what with my being underaged and all."

"Yeah…s'pose you're right," he said, though mostly to himself.

Stepping out from under the cloak, I stared off dead ahead in hopes that Harry was still there. "Well I'd better be going," I told him before a sudden thought occured. "But, y'know, someone should tell Cedric about this. He's the only one who doesn't know."

"You're right," he said. "No worries, I'll tell him."

"Ace," I commented. "Well, g'night, Harry."

"'Night, Demetria."

No sooner had the words sprung from his mouth than did he bolt out from beyond the edge of the forest, as though he had somewhere to be at…well past midnight. And it seemed Harry wasn't the only one who had better places to be, for when I retraced my steps back to where I'd left the twins, they too were no longer in sight. Regardless, I saw my own way out of the Forbidden Forest, only to run into someone else though figuratively this time.

"Demetria!" said Karkaroff upon turning to face me. "Was that you?"

"Was what me, sir?" I asked him, genuinely confused. He couldn't have seen me sneaking off. He was fast asleep in his cabin, though apparently not anymore… Come to think of it, how long had he been up?

"I could have sworn I had just run into something…" Karkaroff continued to look around suspiciously at waist height.

It must have been Harry. "Oh right," I said, feigning forgetfulness. "Sorry, sir, that was me."

"Well then…Quite alright, Demetria," he assured with a small grin. "No damage done, after all. Now then, back to the ship." He merely shooed me off in hopes of continuing on to the forest, no doubt. Well, if he was willing to cheat…

"I was just in there, sir," I told him. Whether he was pretending not to comprehend or truly didn't, I was not aware. "The forest — I know what they're keeping in their for the task."

Karkaroff's eyes quickly swept across the area before he placed a hand on my shoulder and lead me toward the ship. He didn't speak until we'd reached the dock. "Now, what did you — ?"

"Dragons," The word sprang from my tongue almost instantly. "Four of them — one for each champion. We've got to get past them."

The cold, blue eyes of my headmaster remained unfazed, for clearly this was just as bad as he'd been expecting. Although that too wasn't even the case, given his almost amused response: "Oh, that was it?"

Was he mad?! "What d'you mean, ' _that was it_ '?! They're dragons for Christ's sake!"

"Shhh, Demetria, calm yourself," he advised; I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "All you really must do is blind the beast. I believe Professor Palenycky has taught you accordingly."

"Easier said than done, sir," I told him as we made our way up the plank and over the ship's railing.

"Only if you allow it to be," he insisted, making way for his cabin doors. "Sleep well, Demetria."

"You too, sir."

And so with that, I made my way below deck admist all of the snoring and moved as soundlessly as possible to the bunk I shared with Viktor, who was asleep on the bottom bunk. I climbed up to mine above, but upon removing my combat boots and laying my head on the pillow, I heard my name whispered in a Scottish accent which sent my body rocketing from the bed.

"Finn!" He sat upright in the top bunk parallel to mine and Viktor's. "You scared me half to death, mate."

"Sorry, Dem," he apologized. "Fred and George came by not too long ago and wanted me to tell you: ' _sorry for leaving you, but we knew you'd find your way out_ '. Whatever that means."

But I didn't even thank him, didn't say goodnight, didn't acknowledge that I'd heard him at all really. For once my head hit that pillow once again, that time I was sound asleep almost instantly.

–

The rest of the week flew by, and I wasn't at all sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, I was almost glad to be getting it over and done with. But on the other hand, there was no gaurantee it would go as swimmingly as Karkaroff made it seem. But Sunday afternoon, my mixed emotions and I were woken up by Finn who continued to tell me I would be late if I didn't get to the champions' tent immediately. Naturally, I'd already told him and Viktor both about the dragons. Normally, I would have also informed Grigor but due to his current state of being an arsehole, one couldn't blame me for withholding such information.

My black combat boots had been laced up in blood red laces, courtesy of myself, and I'd been provided with a pair of tight brown pants which I'd tucked into my boots, and a tight, tan, long-sleeved shirt with the Durmstrang coat of arms printed on the front in red. The back held home to my last name strewn across my shoulders, also in scarlet lettering. Once I was dressed, I emerged from below deck to meet the clapping and cheers of all the blokes. And though seeming reluctant, even Grigor clapped along. Nearly everyone else wished me luck in some way as I passed through them on my way to the plank. But before I swung even one leg over the railing, Karkaroff stopped me.

"Dressed like a champion," he said proudly. "Good luck, Demetria," Before allowing me to go and saying to the blokes on the ship. "Who is our champion!?"

A thickly accented chorus of "HARRIS!" rang throughout the air.

"Who is our champion!?"

"HARRIS!"

And once more, before I'd made it on to the grounds and headed for the tent visible through the Forbidden Forest. Upon entering, I had already spotted Fleur seated on a stool in the corner appearing rather pale and clammy. She didn't even seem to notice me walk in, even with Ludo Bagman announcing my entrance. Cedric, on the other hand, ceased his pacing back and forth to greet me with a weary smile, but a smile nontheless.

"Demetria," he said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm…" I couldn't seem to label how I was feeling. "…indifferent," I told him with a shrug of my shoulders. "How're you?"

He, too, shrugged. "Bit nervous, but I'm… fine, I s'pose?" He seemed as unsure as I felt.

"I trust Harry's told you?"

Cedric nodded, his eyes then falling down to my shoes. A small smile found it's way across his face then. "I like the laces."

"I was feeling festive." I smiled back; Harry entered the tent.

"Harry! Good-o!" said Bagman happily. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!" He did just that, sending a significant glance my way. "Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in! When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag," he held up said bag — a small sack of purple silk which he then shook at us. "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

Cedric nodded for the four of us before his face went slightly green and he began pacing once again. Fleur showed no reaction whatsoever and neither did Harry… Neither did I. But Cedric and Fleur had at least volunteered for this, whereas Harry and I were thrown in the lion's den against our will. Or well, more of a dragon's nest, if you will.

And then, sooner than we all would have liked, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking… _Oh no, don't mind us. We're just practically pissing ourselves in here about to face a dragon_. And speaking of, Bagman then opened the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, first offering it to Fleur.

I didn't wish the Hungarian Horntail upon anyone, not even Phlegm. But as she put a shaking hand inside the bag, she drew out nothing more than a tiny, perfect model of the Common Welsh Green with a number two around its neck. And judging by Fleur's complete lack of surprise, I'd been right in assuming Madame Maxime had told her what was in store.

Bagman then offered the bag to me, to which I drew a miniature Chinese Fireball with a number three strung around its neck. I didn't even blink, almost didn't even breathe. I just stared into the tiny dragon's eyes and it stared right back, only stretching its miniscule wings. If only the real thing were as calm as that ickle little guy.

I then looked to Cedric who had already pulled the Swedish Snort-Snout with a number one tied around its neck. And as Harry reached his hand into the bag next, we both knew before he pulled out a dragon which one it was going to be. Sure enough, a miniature Hungarian Horntail sat in the palm of Harry's hand, the number four draped around its neck.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Harry agreed and the two departed from the tent, leaving the two other champions and I to stare at one another. Some form of fear or nervousness engulfed our eyes, but we weren't left alone for much longer. Just then, from somewhere, a whistle blew. My hand instinctively latched itself around Cedric's wrist, not only to calm him but to calm myself. That whistle practically Stunned my chest, my heart nearly leaping from it. Luckily, Cedric was significantly less green now, nodding his thanks to me as I released him and nodded my best wishes. As Harry re-entered the tent, Cedric emerged from it.

All we could do for the rest of the time was sit and listen. Listen to the crowd cheering or screaming, yelling or gasping at whatever it was Cedric was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Meanwhile though, Fleur seemed to have taken his place in pacing the tent, while Harry and I simply sat back and looked around. The only thing that made it all worse was Bagman's commentary. He'd say things like: "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow" or "He's taking risks, this one!" or " _Clever_ move — pity it didn't work!"

But finally after what felt like hours but was really only about fifteen minutes, there came the deafening roar from the crowd which could only mean one thing: Cedric had gotten past the dragon and captured the golden egg!

"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!" And though I would have liked him to, he didn't shout out the marks. "One down, three to go!" The whistle sounded once again, a new swarm of butterflies fluttering violently inside me. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Everything I felt on the inside, Fleur displayed outside. Her entire body was trembling from head to foot, and I felt a sudden empathy toward her for the first time. I wanted to wish her luck, but I couldn't find my voice and she'd already left the tent anyway. That just left Harry and I to sit and listen to more of Bagman's commentary: "Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" he shouted. "Oh…nearly! Careful now…good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Ten minutes later, the crowd errupted into applause once again, meaning Fleur must have also been successful. There was another pause as the marks were undoubtedly shown, followed by more clapping, and then much to my dismay…the third whistle.

"And here comes Miss Harris!" cried Bagman.

"Good luck, Demetria," Harry rushed out in a rather hoarse voice. I looked to him, nodded, and made my way out of the tent.

I wished the walk past the trees and through the gap in the enclosure fence could have been longer. I wished the panic rising in my chest would cease. But more than anything, I hoped this bloody dragon wouldn't kill me!

Emerging from the shadows of the trees, I was greeted by the cheers of hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at me from the stands. But it was the other side of the enclosure which held my attention, for that was where the Chinese Fireball was crouched low over her clutch of eggs. This did not last long, however. With nothing but my wand in hand, I did what could only be looked upon as bloody stupid — I ran straight toward her. I figured Bagman was making some sort of comment about how risky this was, but somehow I managed to tune him out, and the audience for that matter. Either that, or I simply couldn't hear over the cry of the Fireball, which was even more earpiercing up close.

I was forced to skid to a stop off on the side of the enclosure, now so close to this beast that one breath of fire from her would surely fry me within seconds. In fact, she looked as though she was about to. And I'd been so panicked and caught up in dodging the flames, which I dove off to the side to do, that I'd nearly forgotten what Karkaroff had told me to do. My head seemed so much clearer now, as I got back to my feet and began scheming. I knew unless I wanted the golden egg — and all of the others — crushed, I had to lure the dragon away from her nest. Though I wasn't entirely sure how long I could keep up dancing around the mushroom shaped flame she hurled at me once again. Dodging that one had brought me to the center of the enclosure.

As though just remembering the ten-and-a-quarter inches of ash wood in my hand, I cast my first spell of the task. All I'd done so far was Transfigure a rock on the ground into a long enough rope before the Chinese Fireball had turned to whip me with her enormous tail. I seized the oppertunity, jumping as high as I possibly could while holding the ends of the rope, my wand quickly having been stowed away in the side of my right boot. The only problem with that was her tail was far larger than the height of my leap, so one of the spikes I hadn't even seen before jabbed me in the side and I was forced to hold on to it as she swung me up into the air by her tail.

All right, so my original plan of somehow magically Binding the dragon was out and I was far too busy holding on for dear life so that I wouldn't be sent flying to this dragon's bloody nesting grounds inChina to conjur up a new plan…but it wasn't over yet! She continued to try and shake me off and in doing so, she began to stray from her nest. All I had to do was speed up the process. I carefully released my right hand's grip on the spike and pulled my wand from my boot on the leg I'd nearly wrapped around the tail itself. Turning back, and still holding on as she attempted to throw me once again, I aimed my wand at her tail and called out, " _Stupefy!_ "

I knew it wouldn't do any good to have just one person Stun a dragon, I'd seen that with my own eyes. But I'd accomplished what I wanted done, for the Chinese Fireball released almost a whimper of pain, lowered herself to the ground, and turned her head to send another mushroom shaped flame in my direction. I then unwrapped myself from her giant tail and fell to the ground flat on my back, a pain shooting down my spine. But I did my best to ignore it and get back to my feet, wand at the ready for when she turned back to face me. When she did, I sent the Conjunctivitis Curse at both of her eyes, the beast crying out in a horrible, roaring shriek.

Already back-tracking as fast as I could, I then turned back and ran toward the nest, knowing full-well that the dragon's eyes were swelling shut, temporarily blinding her. I could fell her teetering in the earth beneath me, but I never stopped running until I'd reached the nest which held home to numerous crimson eggs speckled with gold, but my interest was only in the one I grabbed and held in my hands — the golden egg.

The crowd around me errupted in such a thunderous applause that it nearly scared me. I'd almost forgotten they were all watching, but they seemed to make up for it with their deafening cheers. I took a look around and saw the dragon keepers rushing to subdue the Chinese Fireball and I finally almost seemed to turn the volume back up on Ludo Bagman's commentary.

"Well would you look at that!" he yelled. "One of our two youngest champions has managed the quickest time…so far!"

I looked over toward the entrance of the enclosure and saw a tall and rather relieved looking witch making her way over to me. It was the same professor who'd put Snape in his place when Harry and I were first chosen as champions.

"Excellent job, Miss Harris!" she praised before pointing out of the enclosure. "You may wish to visit the first aid tent, however. That was a rather severe fall you took."

Nodding, I made my way out of the enclosure and continued on until I came to an older witch in nurse attire. Having been too hopped up on adrenaline, I failed to notice the pain still shooting down my spine and the aching in my side where I kept the golden egg close. The witch stood eager to help at the mouth of a second tent, looking to me with worry.

"Madam Pomfrey, dearie," she introduced, rushing me inside.

Entering the tent, I found it to be divided into cubicles and I could even make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas of one. Whatever he'd done, it clearly hadn't injured him too badly; he was sitting up at least. Madam Pomfrey examined my own injuries, starting with my side. She lifted my shirt enough to reveal a rather ghastly bruise, but surprisingly no skin was broken.

"Don't worry, it's not nearly as bad as it looks," she assured, dabbing it with some purple liquid that smoked and stung. But she then poked it with her wand and the bruise was almost completely healed, reduced to nothing more than a minor black and blue. "Now let's see that back of yours."

She moved around where I stood and lifted my shirt from the back, revealing my dark blue bra. But I wasn't worried what with Cedric behind the canvas and no one else around. Well, no one else _was_ around until…

"Demi, that was positively brill — !" Finn came running in to say, along with Viktor _and_ the twins.

"And to think we almost missed _this_ show for Harry's!" said Fred to his brother, the two high-fiving. Finn and Viktor looked away uncomfortably.

"Oh honestly, you two!" I hissed. "Avert your eyes! Or at least be discrete about it…like Finn's trying to do." I caught those sea-green orbs shifting my way only to shoot back down to the ground upon my noticing. However, as soon as Madam Pomfrey had tapped her wand to my spine, it felt good as new, almost as though it re-aligned.

"There you are, Miss Harris, good as new," she said, already rushing off to Cedric's cubicle. "You and your friends may check your score!"

Unrolling my shirt so it covered my torso once again, I smacked Fred and George both upside the head so those googly eyes of their's would return to their sockets. Finn and Viktor, amused by this, followed me out of the tent before the twins did. We'd all barely managed to exit the tent before running into Grigor. He was pale as a ghost and completely speechless for a moment. Could it have been the moment I'd been waiting for? Sure enough, though still without a word, Grigor wrapped me up in his embrace and I returned the affection.

"Demetria," he said seriously when we'd pulled away. "I am so sorry! I had thought — but now I see —"

"It's all right, Grig," I assured him, laughing a bit at his blundering. "Just glad to be alive."

Alive. Hey…I _was_ alive! I'd just faced a Chinese Fireball…and lived! I'd made it through the first task!

"That vas amazing though, Dem," praised Grigor. "Better you out there than me anyvay. I do not think I could take on a dragon."

"Speaking of," George chimed in. "I reckon they'll be putting up your scores."

So with the golden egg back in my hands, the six of us made our way to the edge of the enclosure. From there, I could see where the five judges were seated right at the other end in raised seats draped in gold.

"The marks are from vun to ten," Viktor told me as we watched the first judge — Madame Maxime — raise her wand into the air. What looked to be a long silver ribbon shot from it and twisted itself into a seven.

"Probably only because Fleur's been speaking ill of you," said Finn bitterly.

"That or she simply didn't approve of my landing," I joked.

"That must be it," agreed Fred. "Not graceful enough."

"She is all style points!" Grigor called out rather indignantly. "Pay her no mind, Demetria." And I didn't. Madame Maxime's score was the last thing on my mind. I was just so thrilled to have Grigor back on my side.

Mr. Crouch was next, shooting a number eight into the air, followed by Dumbledore and then Ludo Bagman who both put up a nine.

"That is more like it," said Viktor from beside me.

And finally from Karkaroff — I couldn't say I was surprised as I'm sure Viktor, Finn, and Grigor weren't either — a ten.

"That puts you in the lead, love!" said George excitedly.

Just then, the fourth and final whistle blew. It was Harry's turn. In all of the excitement, I'd completely forgotten Harry still had yet to face his dragon. He was still feeling the fear and the anxiety, wondering if he would even make it out alive. Fred and George hurried back to their spots in the stand and the judges were suddenly blocked by the Hungarian Horntail. Viktor and Grigor returned to their spots as well, but Finn stayed back with me by the first aid tent, for I wasn't really up for dealing with the noises of the crowd…or the dragon.

"You could've gone on, Finn," I told him. "I'll be fine."

"No shite, I just saw you take on a bleeding dragon," he said, still in awe over it. "But if I go, who's gonna tell you how your favorite Hufflepuff and your least favorite half-veela did?"

So as Finn had told me, apparently Cedric did a bit of Transfiguring of his own, however his was successful…or well, more so than mine. He too Transfigured a rock on the ground, but to a dog in hopes of distracting the dragon. It worked, for Cedric was able to retrieve the egg, but evidently the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it wanted Cedric rather than the Labrador, hence Cedric's burns and need of first aid.

Fleur, on the other hand, used a charm to put her dragon in a sort of trance. Apparently, that sort of worked too, until it snored and a great jet of flame shot out, Fleur's skirt catching on fire. Though she was able to put it out with some water from her wand.

Pretty soon, Harry was making his way up toward the first aid tent, panting and with the golden egg in his hands.

"Harry!" I called out. "What'd you do?"

Before Madam Pomfrey had ushered him inside the tent, he looked to me and rushed out the words, "I flew!"

"Flying!" I said, slapping my palm against my forehead. "Why the bloody hell didn't _I_ think of that? My father was a Quidditch star for Godric's sake!"

"And so are you!" Finn said, just as upset with himself that he hadn't thought of flying. But just as the two of us were about to depart for the ship, Ludo Bagman called out my name.

"I wondered if you might gather the boys and meet me back in the champions' tent?" he said. "Fleur is already waiting."

He walked off toward the tent himself after I'd nodded in agreement. And so ducking my head into the first aid tent, I said to Cedric who finally emerged from behind the canvas. "Ced, you and Harry come down to the champions' tent when you're ready."

"All right." He smiled, one side of his face covered in a thick orange paste. "Nice job out there, by the way."

"Same to you," I told him with a grin of my own. And parting ways with Finn, I made my own way to the tent where I stood in relative silence with Fleur and Bagman. Though it wasn't much longer until Harry and Cedric both entered the tent, grinning.

"Congratulations on first place, Demetria," said Harry.

" _First place_?" I echoed. "Are you mad? How did I — ?"

"No need to be modest, Demetria!" Bagman insisted. "Barely a scratch on you, you've earned it! And well done, _all_ of you! Now, just a few quick words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open…see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg — because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well off you go, then!"

I swore that Ludo Bagman was as mad as a hatter… But regardless, the other champions and I all left the tent and I myself rejoined Viktor, Grigor, and Finn as we all began making our way back to the ship.


	6. Chapter 5: Lucy in the Sky

_**Chapter Five**_

 _Lucy in the Sky_

:.:.:

All was somewhat quiet, nearly serene, above deck. Although, with whatever celebration undoubtedly awaited the four of us below deck, it was no wonder everything above it seemed so calming. But before descending down, I stole a moment simply to sit upon the starboard railing, one leg dangling over the waters and the other over the deck. The golden egg, glimmering where the setting sun hit it, I placed before me on the railing.

"What d'you reckon's inside?" I asked the blokes, eyes never leaving the egg.

"Open it," replied Grigor airily. "Do the finding out."

My fingers traced the groove which ran all the way around the egg. But just as I was about to open it, Viktor came in and snatched it out from under me. And when I looked to him for an explanation, he told me: "Let us open it among our brothers."

So I hopped down from the railing and made way for the stairs. I let Viktor continue to hold the egg because quite frankly, it weighed more than one might think. The three blokes allowed me to make my way down first, engulfed in complete darkness once I'd reached the cabin floor. But the moment my combat boots did make contact with that ground, every candle and torch was set aflame, the other Durmstrang blokes plus Karkaroff cheering. Shadows danced across the walls, a glow of orange tinted everyone's face as they began the chant once again.

"Who is our champion?!" came Karkaroff.

"HARRIS!" they all cried.

"Who will win?!"

"HARRIS!"

"For whom will she win?!"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!"

With each shout, they'd all shot their fists into the air. But finally, they dropped them and sent a thunderous applause echoing through out the cabin. All cheered again, especially Viktor, Finn, and Grigor… Well, all except Nikolai and Oskar Kowalski, his scrawny side-kick. But I certainly wasn't about to let those two gits ruin the evening…if that were even possible. I mean I'd just faced a bloody dragon for Merlin's sake!

"Demetria Harris!" Karkaroff called out. I made my way over to him in the center of the crowd as the excitement died down. "I believe I speak on behalf of everyone when I say…the Goblet of Fire has chosen you for a reason, and a damn good reason indeed!" Another round of cheers issued. "Today, you have shown your true strength and ability, and proved your worthiness to be in this tournament! You have given your rivals something to fear, and to us you have given a great hope — FOR DURMSTRANG!"

"FOR DURMSTRANG!" I joined the blokes in repeating.

"Vi vil seire!" Karkaroff led his few, fellow Norwegians in shouting. **(** _ **We will prevail**_ **)**

Next, even fewer in both Russian and Ukrainian overlapped one another with "My peremozhemo!" and "My pobedim!" **(** _ **We win**_ **)**

And last but in no way least, all who remained shouted out in Bulgarian: "Nie shte zavladee!" **(** _ **We will conquer**_ **)**

Regardless of my nationality consisting of only British and Bulgarian, I still knew what each of them were saying and it all made me feel the same — empowered. Viktor was right — these were our brothers. We'd all grown together since age eleven, and learned one another's languages. All along I'd been thinking my grandfather was the only family I had left… Never had I been so wrong.

"Demetria!" called out Aleksander. "Vill you open the egg?" The blokes commenced cheering in agreement.

My eyes scanned the cabin for Viktor but weren't searching long, for he was already striding towards me with the golden egg in his hands. Viktor smiled as he handed it off to me, the weight nearly catching me off guard once again. It seemed as though everyone was only getting louder upon digging my fingernails into the grooves which ran down the egg. As I did so, I stole a quick glance at Karkaroff who nodded his approval, and that was when I prised it open to find it completely empty… but a bloody horrible noise came from it. Everyone's hands flew to protect their ears from the loud and screechy wailing which now echoed throughout the cabin.

Practically forgetting I'd been holding the source of the noise, I dropped it to the ground to cover my own ears. However, that was no longer necessary, for the egg had shut once it hit the ground. Everyone stood frozen and gaping at the egg, silent as stars. Only when I went to pick it up, did someone comment.

"Vhat _vas_ that?" Sergei spoke up first.

"It sounded of banshees!" added Grigor. "Perhaps you vill haff to fight those next!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Grig," I told him, handing the egg back to Viktor. Of course there was always the slim chance that he could've been right…But banshees? Honestly? I'd prefer the dragon again.

"She is right, Poliakoff," said Nikolai darkly, as though stepping out from the shadows. His lips were twisted up in their usual smirk. "Sounded more like _torture_ if you ask me."

"Good thing no one asked you then eh, Pavel?" Finn stepped out from the crowd to challenge him.

Nikolai's smirk remained intact as he continued to droll. "Do not be so quick to do the ruling out," he said smoothly. "Anything is possible in this tournament…including torture."

"That is enough, Nikolai," silenced Karkaroff gravely. But even in eyes as seemingly dead as Karkaroff's, the fear was still visible. Because even he knew that, unfortunately, Nikolai had just as much of a chance as Grigor in guessing what the next task was. And though I never thought I'd hope to encounter a banshee, when it came down to them or being tortured…well, there's a first time for everything. Although the two truly weren't so far off.

"If everyone would please…" Karkaroff's voice trailed off before making his way to the steps. "Ready yourselves for bed. God natt og ser dere i morgen." **(** _ **Good night and see you tomorrow**_ **)**

"God natt," the rest of us chorused. We all then waited for the door leading above deck to open and close signaling Karkaroff's exit, to actual move to our bunk-beds. Viktor and I headed to ours, Finn and Marcus already occupying their's which was parallel to mine.

"Well, Pavel, you certainly know how to kill a mood," I couldn't stop myself from saying into the darkness which was now forming; everyone was beginning to kill the light from the torches and such. Viktor shot me a significant glance just before I commenced climbing the ladder to my top bunk. I knew he didn't want me to start anything between myself and Nikolai.

Nikolai, however, merely chuckled quietly to himself and said from his own bunk, "Sweet dreams, Lille Prinsesse."

My skin began to crawl at the nickname. I honestly would have been less offended if he'd shot back one of his infamously cruel remarks. But still, I didn't engage myself in his bullshite…regardless of the kick Viktor sent up to my bunk to ensure that I wouldn't. In all honesty though, I was far too tired, for it had only been a few hours ago that I'd had to battle a dragon. But it wasn't until I'd changed into my usual pajamas of plaid boxer shorts and a long-sleeved Bulgaria Quidditch shirt and my head was on the pillow that I realized just how tired I truly was. Sleep came almost instantly, only this time, it brought something along with it…

–

 _Night has fallen upon a graveyard, a thin layer of fog hanging in the air. A small army of both cloaked and masked Death Eaters stand in horizontal rows behind me, as I stand before a man by the name of Peter Pettigrew who carries the Dark Lord himself. I am clad in my usual dark apparel, as is Draco who stands at my side, but neither of us bare a cloak or a skeletal mask. Grandad stands at my other side with one hand resting on my shoulder_ — _it is the arm which holds his Dark Mark; Lucius Malfoy is doing the same to Draco._

 _"Vie ste pochti tam," Grandad whispers to me, his voice shaking._ _ **(You are almost there)**_ _. Even his touch begins to tremble, so I cross my left hand over my chest and place it over the hand he rests on my right shoulder._

 _"Demetria Harris," hisses Voldemort from his small, fetal body. Pettigrew, or Wormtail as they call him, takes careful steps toward Grandad and I. "You must help me_ … _You WILL help me_ … _You will help bring my body back."_

 _My voice comes as stolid as ever. "I will help bring your body back, my Lord."_

 _"You will bring the boy to me," Voldemort goes on, his voice still smooth and icy as ever. "You will bring Harry Potter to me_ … _in this very graveyard."_

 _"I will bring the boy to you," I assure him; the voice I use hardly sounds my own. "I will_ — _"_

 _But before I can finish, there is a beam of light breaking through the night sky. It rips through the dark velvet yet does not disturb the stars, even the moon remains perfectly in place. The light shines down upon me causing all Death Eaters to scatter, even Grandad backs away. I, however, continue to look into the tear in the sky, waiting for someone or something to appear. But instead, a voice echoes throughout_ — _a woman's voice, and a familiar one at that._

 _"Demetria," she says gently. And then I know_ …

 _"Mum?" I call out hopefully. I feel another hand brush my shoulder, but upon turning, it's not Grandad this time. It's her_ — _Lucy Harris, my mother. Her presence is angelic, a white glow all around her. And her hair falls in perfect, blonde curls down her back, a set of warm, brown eyes nearly filling with tears as she looks at me. She's beautiful, frozen at age twenty-two_ … _but is she real? "Is that really you?"_

 _She nods and then tells me, "I don't have much time, but I had to warn you_ … _"_

 _"Warn me about what?" I ask her urgently._

 _"Demetria, you must listen to me_ — _do not let him steal it from you," And before I know it, she's unclasping a necklace from around her own neck and holding it out before me to admire. On a silver chain, there hangs a small, oval-shaped locket, bearing an inscription of sorts on the front._

 _"I don't understand," I try to tell her as she drops the locket into my hand. "Who's going to steal this?" I hold up the silver oval between us._

 _"What he wishes to take from you does not lie within the locket," she tells me, her cold hand now pressed against my heart. "It lies here."_

 _"What does?!" I ask her, starting to panic as I watch my mother begin to fade away as the beam of light dims. "Who wants to steal it?! Wait! Mum, don't go! Don't leave me! Mum!"_

–

"Mum…Mum, come back…Don't leave…Mum —"

"Demetria!" came a fierce whisper. My body began to rock as it issued again. " _Demetria_!"

Several things all happened at once — my heart nearly catapulted from inside my chest, my eyes opened to reveal the darkness of the ship's cabin, Finn could be detected hovering over me from the bunk bed's ladder, and something felt cold within my hand. Wait — something cold in my… I sat up and opened my fist to find a silver locket sitting in the palm of my right hand.

"Demetria, are you all right?" Finn asked me, worried. "Must've been quite the dream you wer — Why d'you have that?"

My heartbeat was then practically audible as I told Finn, "My mum gave it to me."

"So you…sleep with it?" he persisted, seeming a bit reluctant to believe this. After a moment of my expression not changing, he continued. "How long ago did you get it?"

Then it was my turn to be reluctant. "Tonight," I finally confessed. And I braced myself for however Finn would react next — confused, afraid, amused…or maybe he'd simply label me crazy and send me off to St. Mungo's.

But as it turned out, he did none of the above. Instead, he continued to gaze into my eyes and then told me in all seriousness, "Let's get you some tea, eh?" He then hopped down from the ladder and before I knew it, was back again tossing some article of clothing into my lap. "Mornings are getting colder."

" _Finnick_ ," I snapped, though managed to keep my voice hushed. He ceased scurrying about and turned to face me in the darkness. "I just woke up with the locket my dead mother gave me in my dream, and you're response is to get me _tea_?!"

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Finn spoke again, just as seriously as last time. "You're right…Better make it coffee. Come on then, cover up." And the next thing I knew, my combat boots had been tossed up to my bunk as well.

And to think…for a moment, I'd actually been thinking _I_ was the crazy one. But regardless, I still made my way down the ladder, locket still in hand. Upon examining the article of clothing, I made it out to be a pair of sweatpants which I quickly pulled my legs through over my boxer shorts. Then after lacing up my boots, I followed Finn as we made our way above deck, and then off the ship entirely. We'd apparently risen just before the sun, for the sky seemed to have just shifted from dark to light. Finn and I walked silently across the grounds until we reached the castle.

"Oh honestly Finn, what're we doing?" I stopped to ask him; he shushed me, but I ignored it, my palm up to show him the locket. "Need I remind you I just got this from my _dead_ mother?!"

Finn grabbed me by the shoulders and gripped me tightly. "You _needn't_ remind me of anything," he said almost mockingly…or perhaps it just sounded that way to me. "I understand what happened."

"Then you can explain this?" I inquired brightly.

"No," was his simple reply, as though the answer had been obvious.

"But you just said —"

"I said I understood, I never said I could explain it," he clarrified, his hands dropping from my shoulders. "Demetria…the world is full of…unexplainable forces and mysteries and… _magic_. Whatever happened to you tonight…it was magic. You've got no reason to be afraid of it… I'm not."

My body succumbed to a shiver as a near-arctic wind swept through. Finn took notice and brought me to his chest with one hand. "Thank you," I told him, and I hoped he knew it was for more than keeping me warm. I took that time to reflect on how close Finn and I had grown in such a short number of days…weeks, really. But it was then that I realized just how little I actually knew about him. In fact, there were only about three things I knew for certain — One: he was born and raised in Scotland, but was also partially Bulgarian. Two: he possessed a great interest in Hogwarts. And three: he was a hell of a good Beater. So all in all…I truly had little next to no idea who he was.

But just as he started for the kitchen, I stopped him. "We don't have to go, I'm fine," I insisted. And I felt him smile against the top of my forehead just before he pulled away and was smiling down at me.

"May I?" he said, holding out his hand to me. I placed the locket delicately in his palm and then turned around, collecting and holding up my dirty blonde locks as he clasped the locket around my neck. "Have you opened it yet?"

Turning back to face him and dropped my hair, I held the silver oval as far away from my neck as possible and looked down at it. "You know, I didn't even think t —"

After a moment, Finn finally asked, "What is it?"

"I dunno," I told him. "I can't read upside down."

His hands then replaced mine as he examined the inscription on the heart. "It's — It's not English…"

"Well what is it then?" I prodded.

"No idea," admitted Finn. "It just looks like a bunch of odd squiggles."

I took a look at it. "I've never seen a language like that."

"Neither have I," Finn shrugged. "But it's got to mean _something_ to you, or your mum… D'you reckon we could look it up?"

"I wouldn't even know where to look," I admitted, walking toward the edge of the castle upon where I could see a small, winged creature soaring toward Finn and I.

The sun was beginning to rise now, it's rays shining through the large, stone columns like fingers, touching and warming me. I slipped in between two of them as the bird drew closer, and I recognized it as the fair-sized brown owl which delivered my letter to Grandad not too long ago. Finn held out his arm for the owl to rest upon, which he did after dropping the rolled up parchment into my hands. Speaking of Grandad…

 _Demetria_ —

 _I believe it's now my turn to apologize for taking this long to write...or reply, rather. I have had my own fair share of some hectic things going on around here. But I'm glad to hear you're enjoying yourself at Hogwarts. Both of your parents made some of their best memories at that school._

 _As for this tournament business, I am sorry I wasn't able to console you through your time of worry, but I have heard from Lucius that you handled the first task exceptionally well. Faced a dragon, did you? Perhaps dragon keeping is in your future_ — _or anything else besides Quidditch. You have a tremendous amount of skill, Demetria, but you have so many other magnificent talents that should be put to use instead._

 _While I do find it odd that you and Harry Potter have been selected as champions, I must say I find it a bit more odd that your wand core is an Augurey tail feather. I must admit, I'd never known that. But what can I say? My brother always was a bit of a tosser... Clearly where you get it from. Only teasing, sweetheart. But in all seriousness, do look after yourself and be careful in this tournament._

 _Stick with Viktor, Grigor, and even Draco, and as soon as you find something out about the second task, write me. I promise to reply much quicker. Tinker and I send all of our luck and love._

— _Grandad_

For a moment, I considered writing to Grandad about my dream, but decided against it. He was probably still busy with Death Eater business. Ugh, Death Eaters… I'd nearly forgotten I was required to become one. And once I was…What would people like Viktor or Grigor or even Finn think of me? Bloody hell… The only person I'd still have would be Draco… But until that time came, I didn't plan on revealing such a secret to anyone — I looked to Finn who was smiling at the hooting owl — no matter how close I was to them.

"Harris! Archer!" called out an unmistakably accented voice. A simple turn of the head confirmed it — Sasha Polinskiy. He was making his way toward us, but stopped a few feet away. "The Headmaster has something he wishes to discuss." And then he ushered his forward, to which we did just that and followed Sasha back aboard the ship.

Karkaroff was standing in full uniform and perfectly groomed up on the quarterdeck by the ship's wheel, while the rest of us stood on the lower deck still clad in pajamas, hair disheveled. And as soon as Finn, Sasha, and I had claimed our place among them, Karkaroff immediately began speaking.

"God morgen," he greeted as he always did. **(** _ **Good morning**_ **)** To which, we replied with the same. He continued: "The morning each of you were chosen to take this journey, you may recall me mentioning a rather important event. This event is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an oppertunity, not only to show Durmstrang's unity, but to…socialize."

Whispers began to weave through the small crowd, for everyone remembered exactly what Karkaroff was talking about, myself included. It was that ridiculous Yule Ball. But thankfully, despite the wishes of Karkaroff, that was one event I would not be attending.

"I am, of course, speaking of the Yule Ball," he finally revealed, confirming everyone's assumption. "This ball has a restriction of fourth years and above, but…that is not a problem for anyone here, korrekte?" **(** _ **Correct**_ **)** We echoed the Norwegian words. "Excellent. Now then, you are all to wear your heavier uniforms in order to represent our institute. The ball will be held in the Great Hall, beginning at eight o'clock on Christmas Day and finishing at midnight. This _is_ a night for you all to enjoy yourselves, HOWEVER… I expect respectable and model behavior from every one of my students. If anyone is to bring embarrassment to myself, others, the institute or themselves, there will be consequences… Forstått?" **(** _ **Understood**_ **)**

That time, only the Norwegians were able to understand and echo it. But it didn't seem to matter to Karkaroff, for he then dismissed us to our cabins to ready ourselves for breakfast in the Great Hall. Well… he dismissed all but me, whom he summoned up to the quarterdeck. So after assuring Finn I'd catch up in a moment, I ascended up the steps and stood before Karkaroff who waited until the deck had been cleared to speak.

"Demetria, in regards to the ball —"

"I know what you're going to try and do, sir," I told him, already having figured this would be some sort of persuasion to get me to attend. "But my mind's been made up since you first mentioned this ball. Durmstrang will be perfectly represented without me."

Karkaroff then looked to me in mild amusement. "True enough, I did agree that you did not have to attend," he began. " _However_ …" and then my heart sank. "…that was before you were selected as champion. Demetria, you must attend the Yule Ball, you must have a partner, and you must open the ball with said partner."

"And by open, you mean…?" My voice trailed off, afraid of where it would lead. But in the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question.

"Dance," was Karkaroff's simply, and yet still amused, reply.

I released a long, mournful sigh before sarcastically asking, "Any particular color my dress ought to be?"

"Red," replied Karkaroff in all seriousness. "To match the boys."

But before I could utter a single syllable, let alone protest, Karkaroff had insisted I get changed and go to breakfast. And I would've objected, had it not been for my stomach growling at that exact moment. So rather reluctantly, I made my way below deck and traded my pajamas for Durmstrang's lightest uniform, and was able to catch up with the blokes before they'd even entered the Great Hall. This pleased Karkaroff, for he told us to always enter any room or place all together and in two lines. Said something about it being intimidating. But personally, I didn't see anything threatening about two single-file lines. Nevertheless, that was how we entered the hall and made an immediate bee-line for the Slytherin table. Both Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students already occupied the hall, though I'd imagined neither had heard of the Yule Ball yet due to the lack of birds animatedly speaking of dresses and dates, and blokes embarrassing themselves as they'd attempt to ask one of said birds to the ball. Unfortunately, there would come a time in that day when both of those percentages would rise.

–

Alright, honestly — Hogwarts was bloody enormous! How in the sodding hell did the entire school come to know about the ball before noon!? Finn and I had tucked ourselves away in the library in hopes of decoding whatever was enscribed on my locket, but it was a rather hard task to accomplish when random blokes would approach me and ask to go to the Yule Ball with them.

"Worst part about being champion — being forced to attend this Godric-damned ball." I scowled.

Finn gave a chuckle to my misfortune. "Why not ask the dragon to the ball with you?"

"At least if I did that, I'd have a brilliant excuse as to why I couldn't wear a dress," I said, making a turn down one of the many sections. Though honestly, I still hadn't the slightest idea of what I was looking for.

"Oh really?" Finn challenged in beguilement. "And what might it be?"

I turned to him and cracked a smile. "Dragon burned my dress."

He chuckled. "Ah, classic. Does it work for homework as well, or do I need a sep — ?" But he just stopped mid-sentence. And when I looked to him, he was gaping at where study tables were set up.

"What is it?" I whispered urgently; Finn went on ignoring me, still staring in bewilderment. "Finn, what're you staring at? Oi, Winifin!" I reached out to strike his arm. Finally, I had his attention.

"Ouch!" he exclaimed. "Why did y — Did you just call me Winifin?"

"Well you weren't responding to your _real_ name!" I defended. "And besides, I think Winifin suits you far better. No honestly," I insisted upon seeing Finn's expression shift from being shocked to being unamused. "Has no one ever told you how much your hips sway when you're walking? Very feminine."

"Oh bugger off… _Demetrius_ ," But I took Finn's nickname like a good sport just as he'd done for mine. "Now, take a look at that."

Following the finger Finn was pointing outward, I found it led me straight to a couple seated at one of the studying tables. I immediately recognized the girl to be that Hermione Granger, her bushy hair truly defining her. But the bloke she was with was someone I couldn't automatically identify. He had the seat with his back to me, however. But all it took was a single turn of his head for me to call out, "It's Viktor!"

Several things then happened at once: Viktor, and a few others near the area, turned abruptly, Finn pulled me down to duck behind one of the bookshelves with him, and a woman I imagined must be the librarian approached us.

She was thin and rather irritable-looking with physical attributes like those of an underfed vulture. Not a word was said to us, she merely placed a single finger over her shrivelled lips with a surprisingly intimidating face. Finn and I nodded our understanding before she left us. I then stood up first, making sure there were no more eyes scanning for us — there weren't.

"A bit louder next time," said Finn sarcastically. "I reckon the others back on the ship didn't quite hear you."

But I allowed the comment to roll off my back for I was far more preoccupied with Viktor, who must've said something to get Hermione to sit beside him…because that's what she was doing.

"Would you just _look_ at him?" I gushed. "All of this just to spend time with her! _Vicky_ …Oh, he must really fancy her!" I knew despite all of the birds that clung to Viktor, that deep down he was really a shy bloke. I s'pose I was just glad he was putting himself out there, and it didn't hurt that Hermione seemed a right good choice, especially in comparison to the other slags that have thrown themselves Viktor's way.

"What're you on about?" Finn questioned. "Viktor doesn't even need tutoring! He's one of the top students back home!"

"Cover up, Finn, your naïvety is showing," I teased, catching Finn boldly looking down to check his fly from out of the corner of my eye…though it must've been for my amusement. Even still, I continued to ogle the two of them as they seemed to be drawn even closer to one another. "Viktor doesn't need a tutor, but he's clearly told Hermione that he does so he can spend time with her!"

"Well then why doesn't he just ask to spend time with her?" Finn asked as though it were completely obvious. Which, in all honesty, did make sense for him to think. But that was when I finally turned to face him and explain.

"Vik's much too shy for that. He's just a great, big teddy bear really." I clarrified. "He's got heaps of confidence out on the Quidditch pitch or even around his mates, but once a bird he fancies is involved…" My tone trailed off questioningly. "…he's got about as much belief in himself as he does in nargles."

Just then, the librarian returned and scolded Finn and I in both a stern and shrill voice, "If the two of you cannot keep quiet, I must ask you to leave the library.

In that moment, I looked to find every set of eyes in the library staring at the pair of us, including Viktor and Hermione's. A pang of guilt then hit me as I'd hoped Hermione didn't hear much of what I said in reference to Viktor's being like a teddy bear. But neither Finn nor I could stick around to find out, for the librarian was already ushering us toward the exit.

" _Well_ ," I said exasperatedly as we stood on the other side of the doors. "guess we're not decoding this locket today…"

"Such a disappointment… I'd cleared out my entire schedule for this," joked Finn.

I found a genuine laugh overcame me for a moment and he looked over and smiled at me. The two of us began walking, though I was sure neither of us knew where we were going. But I knew I certainly didn't have a particular destination in mind. Instead, I was more focused on Finn, himself. I was still so curious about him. It seemed he was the one I'd been spending all of this time with lately and yet, I couldn't tell you anymore than three facts about the bloke. But I wouldn't get any of my questions answered if I kept them in my mind…

"Finn," I began, overlapping his voice which said my own name. "Go ahead," I insisted.

He gave a nervous laugh. "Er, I was just wondering… Your parents — How long have they been…gone?" Apparently I wasn't the only one curious about the other.

"S'alright to say they're dead, Finn," I assured him. "I mean…it's what they are, ya know? But, erm, I was only a year old when I lost them…both of them. Well, my mum two months before my dad but…yeah." I then braced myself for the next, most obvious, question: How did they die? But either Finn simply wasn't interested or just didn't want to pry, because that question was never asked.

" _Blimey_ …" was all he said at first, instead.

The two of us were now making our way down the stairs…or well, one of them. With how many there were versus which ways they moved and shifted, it was a bloody puzzle just to get to the ground floor.

"I'm so sorry, Demetria," Finn said to me. "I mean…Hell, only a year old — It's almost as though you didn't know them at all."

"In a way, it's sort of a —" I racked my brain for a suitable word, but ended up empty-handed. "Well, not exactly a _good_ thing but…I feel like if I'd have gotten to know them, it would only hurt more to have them gone." That was how _I_ saw it anyway. If you were to lose anything, it would be easier to leave it early on.

"Huh, I s'pose there's truth to that," Finn mused. Upon finally reaching the first floor, it seemed he'd completely shifted his mood as he turned to me and inquired, "So was there something you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah actually," I replied. I just had to think of a single question to ask first. And when that failed… "Who _are_ you?"

That earned a laugh from him, preceded by an entirely serious response, though while still wearing a grin. "I'm Finnick Simon Archer, born in 1979 on the fifth of November in Glasgow, Scotland. And yourself?"

I couldn't help it, I mirrored his smile. "I'm Demetria Evelyn Harris, born in 1980 on the eighteenth of February in Tutshill, England."

Finn nodded, still grinning and still appearing interested. "I see… Though I'm afraid I've got you beat here — I'm the oldest of two siblings; a ten-year-old brother, Callum, and a thirteen-year-old step-brother, Marko. You know him — Marko Rolek, a third year back at school."

And I did know him, barely, but I had heard of him and seen him around. "I had no idea you two were related," I admitted.

"I wouldn't've expected you to," Finn said. "We look nothing alike, we've got different last names, and we barely even interact with one another."

"What, you two don't get along?" I inquired, figuring if Finn was uncomfortable answering something, he wouldn't have a problem in saying so.

"Well it's not that we particularly _don't_ get along," he explained. "We just — Well I dunno really. Marko mainly keeps to himself anyway, so it feels as though it's really just me and Callum."

I nodded and took a minute before asking, "So why is it you go to Durmstrang? Callum, Finnick — sounds like a Scottish family to me."

"Actually, Finnick doesn't have a particular nationality, and Finn is Irish," he pointed out. "But my mum is Fiona and my real dad is Adam and those are both Scottish, so you're not completely off base. But Marko and my step-father Ivan… In case you can't tell, they're Bulgarian all the way. And when my mum married Ivan, he insisted mine and eventually Callum's schooling take place at Durmstrang."

And all this time I'd simply thought Finn had a Bulgarian background much like myself… "D'you like him?" We'd finally come to the end of the winding corridors, and seated ourselves on the castle steps we'd usually take when entering from the grounds off the ship. "Sorry if I'm prying."

Finn gave a smile and assured me, "I don't mind. Ivan's a good man…just not the best father," Any trace of a smile vanished, his lips snapping back into a hard line. "He's Head Auror for the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, so you could say he sort of takes his work home with him."

"Finn, he doesn't…?" I left the rest up to the imagination. Beat, hit, curse, hex… I wouldn't know. But Finn seemed to understand.

"No, nothing like that," he quickly relieved my worry. "He's just…strict, and rather harsh at times. But then again, seemed I had things so good with my real dad…guess I'm just not used to Ivan's parenting yet."

This only continued to peek my interest as I asked him, "How old were you when your mum re-married?"

"Well she and my dad got their divorce when I was about eight, so I s'pose _you've_ got me beat there," I looked to him in confusion and he explained. "It's harder knowing what, or whom, I'm missing," I nodded and he continued. "Yeah, they said it just wasn't working out. Tried to stay together for Callum and I, but my mum just kept saying she couldn't be in a love-less marriage any longer. And then it was…two years later that she and Ivan were married."

I just took a moment to let it all soak in, but mostly to let Finn compose himself. It must've been hard on him to just lay out his life story on a rather sensitive subject. And though I hadn't even planned on asking any further questions, Finn looked to me with tears glimmering at the brim of his sea-green eyes.

"I used to write to him, Demetria," he told me softly, and I knew he meant Adam. "Everyday… He's never replied."

I was speechless, no idea what to say. What _could_ I have said? I knew what I could do though. My arms found their way around Finn's neck and his automatically snaked around my waist, his face buried in my shoulder. I could feel the silent tears dampen my sleeve, but I just let him cry. At least now I finally knew more than three things about Finn…


	7. Chapter 6: One Less Mystery

_**Chapter Six**_

 _One Less Mystery_

:.:.:

As another week passed, I found myself being asked to the Yule Ball at nearly every turn. Not from any of my Durmstrang brothers, of course, but from an abundance of Hogwarts blokes, and even one of them from Beauxbatons. Needless to say, I turned them all down… _nicely_. I knew I needed a dance partner — or as Finn kept saying, a _date_ — but I hadn't exactly planned on going with someone who I didn't even know. Not to mention, I was sure at least half of them were only interested in me because I was a champion and the other half only because my father was a Quidditch star.

But even though the ball really should have been my top priority, given that it was so soon, I found both the golden egg and my mother's locket to be up much further on my list. It was just too bad Viktor and I couldn't even open the bloody egg without wanting to chuck it over the ship's railing and Finn and I had absolutely no sodding idea what to look for in the library. But that was exactly what we'd been doing all day, and were currently on our way back to the ship to find that night had just about fallen.

"This is hopeless," I said desolately, Finn and I making our way to the ground floor.

"Oh c'mon, Demetria," Finn encouraged. "the stair's aren't so bad once you figure 'em out."

"Not the stairs, Finn," I dismissed. "This locket — the symbols! Just wearing this damn thing is like a massive weight around my neck!" And before I practically clawed at the chain, Finn moved to stand behind me and parted my hair to unclasp the necklace.

"I know it's frustrating," he reasoned. "but your mum gave it to you in a dream… So maybe we've just got to wait for another."

I took the locket from Finn's hands and secured it in my back pocket. "Another bloody locket?!" I asked in disbelief.

"Another _dream_ , Dem," he clarrified, appearing slightly amused.

By the that time, we'd just begun to approach the Great Hall, and I took a moment to calm myself. I'd never really been one to become stressed out so easily, but I'd say that's what I was. I only hoped people like Finn could deal with me and help me maintain my sanity…or what was left.

"Let's just talk about something else, eh?" he suggested brightly. "Erm… Gotten a date to the ball yet?"

"No," it came out more harshly than intended. So I managed to compose myself before asking him, "Have you?"

"Well actually… Yes-look-Cedric!" he rushed out afterwards. But I followed where he was pointing and, sure enough, there stood the tall dark-haired Hufflepuff making his way down the hall.

I turned back to face Finn who was looking rather nervous. "What's gotten into you?"

"Sorry," he calmed himself. "I just — I should've waited and made sure you got yourself a date first. That way if worse came to worst, you could've gone with me."

" _Finn_ ," I said fondly, truly touched he would do that. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'll find someone."

That brought a mischevious grin to his face. "In that case, might wanna try Pretty Boy." And with that, he'd pushed me back, knocking me off my feet and I was sent to collide straight into Cedric. The both of us had fallen to the floor, my legs laying over his torso. And just when I thought to hex Finn for that, I found he'd already run off on to the grounds.

"You alright?" Cedric asked me, re-capturing my attention.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assured, removing my legs from their previous position on him. "Are you?"

"Course," he insisted, getting to his feet and helping me up with a single arm. "You're not exactly much of a weight." Couldn't argue with that, and standing at only five foot two didn't pose as much of a threat either.

Unsure of what to say next, Cedric and I simply ended up smiling at one another for a good minute until I finally had to laugh, as did he. And then I got to thinking about…well, I still needed a date after all… And things couldn't possibly have gotten anymore awkward.

"Cedric?" He immediately perked up, brows raised urging me to go on. "You…have a date to the Yule Ball?" But even as it came out, I thought about how pathetic it all was. Cedric Diggory was sure to be one of the most handsome bachelors at Hogwarts. How could he have _not_ gotten a date by now? And the small smile he wore only confirmed it before he spoke.

"Yeah, got her just this morning actually," he told me, seemingly genuinely pleased with the bird. But his smile then faded and he appeared slightly crestfallen. "It's too bad they're not allowing champions to go with champions, eh?"

Well that was just perfect. I couldn't even go with Harry! Actually…what was I thinking? Harry Potter without a date? It had probably only been me without one at that point. "It really is," I agreed whole-heartedly.

"I'll save a dance for you though?" It came out as almost a question, but he shared a warm smile with me nonetheless, which I returned.

"I'd like that," I told him honestly. "But I've actually got to get going now. Still trying to work out this damn egg."

Cedric nodded. "Any luck?"

"Not at all," I admitted. "You?"

"Nothing, but you'll be the first to know if I ever receive a break through."

"Cedric, you don't have t —"

"Oh yes, I do," he said shortly, and then lowered his voice for what was said next. "Harry told me it was your idea to tip me off on those dragons. It's the least I can do."

"Fair enough then," I smiled. "I'll see you around, Cedric."

"See you, Demetria."

So with that, I'd finally made my way on to the grounds illuminated by the moonlight, and walked toward the docks. And once I'd bounded aboard the ship, I immediately caught sight of Viktor perched upon the starboard railing with the golden egg in his hands.

"You _are_ aware that staring at it won't solve it, correct?" I asked in jest, Viktor looking up from the egg and offering me a smirk. I took my usual position upon the railing with one leg dangling over the lake and the other hovering over the deck.

"As long as _you_ are avare that if you do not play for Tutshill, you haff a promising career as a comedian," he countered, placing the egg between us.

I chuckled. "Yeah, well then maybe I wouldn't have so many ludi momcheta to handle." **(** _ **crazy boys**_ **)** And Viktor laughed but stopped when he noticed how serious I was being. But he didn't have to ask, because I was already asking: "How d'you know when someone's being genuine with you?"

He released a sigh like a river of thought before he spoke. "Are you meaning if they speak to me for only my fame?" I nodded. "Vun nefer knows for sure. But if they are genuine…you feel it." And then he gave a smile, so small and so briefly, but it was there. I could see it even through the darkness, and then I knew exactly who he was thinking of.

"So are you going with her to the ball?" I bluntly inquired.

He looked to me in mild surprise. "I…haff no idea vhat you are speaking of," was his poor excuse.

"Finn and I saw you in the library with Hermione Granger last week." I smirked all-knowingly.

"Vell in _that_ case… Yes." And then the grin was back. Actually, it was more like beaming. I'd never seen Viktor like this when it came to a bird.

"You really fancy her, eh?"

"Vell I don't have many girls to do the comparing to," he reminded. "But there is something special about her."

But Viktor's dreamy gaze was brought back into reality upon hearing the Norwegian-accented droll of of Nikolai Pavel. "Oskar," he addressed his sallow crony. "is this not touching?"

"So very, Nikolai," was one of the very few things I'd ever heard Oskar Kowalski say. But there he was speaking, in all of his opposing Russian accented glory _…_ or infamy, rather. "Ve vouldn't _really_ vant to ruin it…vould ve?"

And after feigning thought for a moment, Nikolai answered him with: "Of course we would!"

"Oh sod off, Pavel," I snapped at him. "Shouldn't you two be off harrassing young first years to go to the ball with you?"

"For the information which is yours, Harris, we have already acquired dates older than eleven," replied Nikolai dismissively.

"Twelve, then?" I pressed, he and Oskar only getting closer. My hands instinctively gripped the egg tighter, and Nikolai noticed.

"What is the matter, Lille Prinsesse? You are not trusting of us around your precious egg?"

My mouth didn't utter a single thought that ran through my mind, as I internally shouted at them for being such pricks. On the outside, I only continued to stare them down, my hands protectively around the egg and my teeth gritted.

"Come now, Prinsesse," said Oskar. "You are like a sister to all of us." His hand reached out to brush my cheek, and that was when I did exactly what they'd been hoping for.

Both of my hands left the egg, one to swat away Oskar's and the other to push him away against his chest. Nikolai's swooped in and knocked the egg off the railing. Neither Viktor's hands nor my leg that dangled over the lake, could save it as we watched it plummet to the black waters. The splash emitted was enough to bring up a mist which hit my leg. Nikolai and Oskar walked away, chortling at their mission accomplished.

"Godric dammit," I swore, swinging both legs on to the railing and rising up.

"Demetria!" Viktor grabbed on to my ankle. "Vhat is it you think you are doing?!"

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, come get me," I ordered him, stripping myself of my Tutshill Tornados pullover which left me in my long-sleeved shirt.

And though reluctant, Viktor released his grip on my ankle. "I am making it five!" he warned.

I threw my sweatshirt behind me on deck along with the combat boots I'd slid off, and dove through the already disturbed, glassy surface of the lake. I felt as though my heart had been jolted awake and re-started as my body was submerged in the frigid waters. Luckily, I was used to temperatures far colder than that. And though I could spot the egg shimmering easily enough, it seemed that no matter how hard I kicked and grabbed at the water, I couldn't catch up to it. But it didn't stop me from cutting my way through, hoping to Merlin that I could hold my breath long enough.

I hadn't even thought to remove my wand from my boot and cast the Bubble-Head Charm. I hadn't thought of anything really, other than diving in to fetch the egg. I guess you could say I tried not to be too dependent on magic. Then again, you could also argue that sometimes I simply act on impulse and forget about all magical options.

Regardless, I was actually surprised to find that when I'd reached the egg, it still had yet to hit the ground. But I'd spoke too soon, for it did touch down on the sandy bottom. And not only that, but it cracked open upon the impact from a rock. And not only _that_ , but rather than the cry of banshees, there came a chorus of eerily beautiful voices singing:

" _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

 _We cannot sing above the ground,_

 _And while you're searching, ponder this:_

 _We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

 _An hour long you'll have to look,_

 _And to recover what we took,_

 _But past an hour_ — _the prospect's black,_

 _Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._ "

But in that moment, I found myself so caught up in unraveling the clue, I'd grabbed the egg and involuntarily inhaled through my nose. And then, from the shock, my mouth was next to draw in a breath of water. _No! I won't drown! Come on, you can do this! Just keep going! You can probably make…make it… My head… W-what's happening? No… No, I can't drown! I have to get back! But I dunno if_ — I could feel the oxygen escaping from my lungs, the water just beginning to fill inside me. _Viktor! Someone! My…throat… No! Fight it…Demetria… But I_ — _Someone…_

Just before I'd fallen victim to the darkness, I mustered all my remaining strength, my energy, and I knew I did something, something with magic — I could feel the vibration in the lake. I just didn't know what it was I'd done.

–

I was awake…but my eyes remained closed. Full, even breaths seemed enough of a struggle at the moment, as though I were just learning how to do so. And though I didn't know where I was, I _did_ know that I certainly wasn't on the ship. But just then, there came the distant sounding of a door opening followed by a collection of footsteps.

"Viktor!" I could detect Grigor's voice calling out. Viktor must have been seated by me already, for I sensed him nearby. "Vhere is Pavel?! He has gone too far!" Which was followed by a stream of Bulgarian curses.

"Compose yourself, Poliakoff," came the demand of Karkaroff. "Nikolai Pavel cannot be held responsible." This only ignited another fire in Grigor's native tongue.

"So that's it?" came Finn, outraged. "He gets no punishment?!"

"He will, certainly," Karkaroff assured, growing nearer. "Not for nearly drowning young Demetria, but for what could have happened and what _did_ happen to Tournament property."

"But, sir, she —"

"Viktor, did he hold her under the water against her will?" Karkaroff cut him off, the latter presumably giving a simple shake of his head. "Then you understand I cannot hold Pavel responsible for her mistake."

I began to wonder when would be a good moment to 'wake up'. The breathing was certainly coming easily enough now that I could have opened my eyes without difficulty. But hearing the opening of the doors once again, I decided to wait just a bit longer. Especially upon hearing everyone's greeting to the owner of those new footsteps — Dumbledore.

"How is Durmstrang's young champion recovering?" he inquired, seeming genuinely concerned.

"Just fine, I should think," said Viktor. "This Madam Pomfrey has not told me othervise."

"Albus, it is nothing too serious," Karkaroff insisted, almost as though it were an embarrassment to have an injury come upon one of his students. "I thank you for your concern, but so much is almost unnecessary."

 _Speak for yourself. I nearly died!_

"Believe me, Igor, if what Mr. Krum has to say is as I have been lead to believe, it is more than concern which will be necessary," said Dumbledore somewhat distantly. I mean, physically he was certainly close, but one could almost hear the memories in his tone. "Mr. Krum, if you would please…?"

"Vell vhat I know is that bevore I could save her, the water began to do the rocking of the ship," That explained the vibration I'd felt… Or well, actually it didn't. But at least I hadn't just been imagining it. "And then just bevore she floated to the surface, there vas a flash of light from underneath the water, and… Vell, I had thought for a short moment I heard a…morska sirena."

"Mr. Krum…?" was what I assumed to be Dumbledore's polite version of asking him to translate it into English.

"A mermaid."

I had little next to no clue why 'more than concern was necessary' for that. He'd probably just heard the egg's song. But then again, that would've meant that I would have seen the flash of light… What in Godric's bleeding name was going on?! Thankfully, Finn didn't hesitate to voice my thoughts as though he'd been listening in.

"What does it mean, Dumbledore — Professor — sir?" he inquired, floundering for the appropriate title to address the Headmaster by.

There was a long pause before he replied. "I am afraid I cannot disclose such information until I make certain it is true. I expect to speak with Miss Harris…" Another gap in his words; everyone must have been waiting for me to wake up. And I thought it to be an oppertune moment, but it was Dumbledore's words which stopped me. "…tomorrow morning, to give her time to collect her bearings. I am quite certain any one of you gentlemen will do well to deliver the message — eight o'clock in my office."

I imagined one of the blokes — if not all three — nodded, for Dumbledore had bid them all farewell before his exiting footsteps echoed. Following his, there came several other pairs. And because I was hardly in the mood for questioning, I waited until I felt certain there was no one remaining to sit up and open my eyes, only to find a worried set of baby blue ones staring back.

–

The Weasley twins were making their way toward the Gryffindor common room after a particularly tedious Potions class. And no sooner had they stepped through the Fat Lady's portrait entrance did they find Ron just completing a card castle out of an Exploding Snap pack, only to have the whole lot blow up, singeing his eyebrows. The twins began chuckling and strode over to their younger brother who was now feeling his brows to check the damage.

"Nice look, Ron," was Fred's cheeky comment. "Go well with your dress robes, that will."

He didn't seem at all phased, and so Fred and George simply took seats at the table along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The pair wasted no time as George promptly asked, "Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" They wanted to borrow Ron's owl to send what they hoped would be their final letter to Ludo Bagman before he coughed up the money he owed them.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," Ron said. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," said Fred bitingly, the sarcasm easily detected…not to mention, expected.

"Because _we_ want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," George told him somewhat uncharacteristically.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" Ron pried, but Fred quickly nipped it.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," he threatened with a wave of his hand. And eager to change the subject, he asked, "So…you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

To which Ron defeatedly replied, "Nope."

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones'll be taken," Fred warned him.

"Who're you going with, then?" Ron continued to inquire.

"Angelina," stated Fred without a trace of embarrassment. George didn't tell Ron that they'd actually both had yet to ask anyone to the ball.

"What?" Ron appeared taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred, turning his head and calling out her name across the common room.

Angelina Johnson, who had been engaged in conversation with Alicia Spinnet by the fire, looked over and called back, "What?"

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

It raised an appraising look upon her face, but she agreed. "All right, then." And then she turned back to continue chatting with Alicia, her lips twisted up in a bit of a grin.

"There you go, piece of cake," said Fred to Harry and Ron who were currently in a state of awe. Fred then yawned and got to his feet, George mirroring the action. "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on…"

And so the two left the common room, with intentions of making their way to the Owlery. Well, at least that was what _George's_ intentions were. However, once the twins were out of earshot by the Fat Lady, Fred stopped abruptly.

"Oi! Why didn't you ask Alicia to the ball?"

George appeared taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered. "I — What're you on about?"

"When I asked Angelina!" said Fred as though it were obvious. "You know Alicia fancies the bogies out of you — Poor bird's probably in shambles now that you haven't asked her."

"I'm sure she's fine," George assured his twin. "And…yeah, alright, I thought about asking her but…she's probably already going with someone."

But truth be told, George had not at all even considered asking Alicia to the ball. In fact, all he could think about when Fred had mentioned dates was the true girl he wanted to attend the ball with. Well, that and hoping Alicia didn't have the bollocks to ask him herself.

"Yeah, and Ron's going with Fleur Delacour," retorted Fred sarcastically. "You know as well as I do she'll turn down every bloke unless he's got red hair, blue eyes, dangerously handsome good looks, and isn't me," He puffed out his chest and feigned arrogance before dropping his shoulders, hand placed encouragingly on his twin's back. "Now, go back in there and ask her before someone else does and you're stuck with…Moaning Myrtle!"

"She's a ghost, mind you," George was playing stupid with Fred then. "She can't actually be someone's da —"

"You know what I mean," The phrase 'all joking aside' literally occured in Fred's eyes then. He was looking to his twin with complete seriousness. "You don't want to end up like ickle Ronniekins scrouging around for a date at the last minute, do you?" He didn't even have to answer. "No, you don't! Now, Alicia's a fit bird who's bound to say yes. All you've gotta do is ask and _bam_ — Fabian's your uncle."

George, mainly to appease his twin, agreed. "All right!"

"There ya go, Georgie!" exclaimed Fred, patting George on the back and leading the way back to the common room. "Now let's get you a date."

Upon arriving back outside the Fat Lady's portrait, Fred brought up the question George had hoped they'd left at the end of the corridor. However, he was hardly paying attention enough to remember that Fred was currently asking about Alicia.

"So what's the _real_ reason you didn't ask her?"

And so George replied as though he were asking about who he'd truly been hoping to attend the ball with. "Wager I've just been too shy," he confessed. "Besides, there's not a doubt in my mind that she hasn't got a date already, what with her being champion and all —"

" _Champion_?" Fred parroted in shock.

"That is not the password," stated the Fat Lady airily.

"D-did I…?" But George didn't even have to finish his sentence. He could feel his ears heating up, undoubtedly reddening as well, as Fred looked to him with a mischievously lop-sided grin.

"George Fabian Weasley —"

"That is not the password."

"— you sly dog," Fred finished approvingly. "When did you plan on telling me you were asking Demetria?"

George relaxed now, smiling along with his twin. "I reckoned when we walked into the Great Hall arm-in-arm would be as good a time as any." Fred playfully nudged him in the shoulder.

"Well, I feel rotten leaving Alicia with Ron, _but_ …" He pretended to be deep in thought before saying: "Let's go get your champion, mate."

But just as he began to nudge his twin in the direction of the nearest staircase, George planted his feet firmly on the floor to stop him. "Didn't you hear a word I said?" he asked his brother who only stared with a rather blank expression. "She's probably already got someone, Fred. And why wouldn't she?" Fred released him and ceased pushing as he dropped down to take a seat on one of the moving staircase steps. Fred plopped down next to him. "She's champion…daughter of one of the most famous Quidditch players of all time… She's smart, she's fun…funny…and —"

"— Cute."

George chuckled at what he believed to be an understatement. "More than cute," he corrected his brother who only mirrored his grin. George finally snapped out of his dream-like state to say, "Oi! I saw her first."

" _Actually_ , by the time you got there, I was already flashing her," said Fred cheekily, earning a swat to the gut by George. "with _Lumos_ , Georgie," he added, the two still smiling. "So you fancy her, then?"

"Well I —" This was one thought that hadn't occured to George. Certainly, there was an attraction…but just slightly… After all, he barely knew her.

Luckily, he didn't have to answer…for the time being, anyway. For sounding from below them, the twins could detect the wrenching open of large wooden doors and an angry bloke shouting in another language. They didn't think anything of it until George heard two things which caused him to race to the first floor — Demetria and hospital wing.

–

"George," it came out in a gasp, heart practically leaping from my chest. "what the — what the hell are you doing here…besides scaring the mickey out of me?"

"I think the better question is, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" interrogated George. And allow me to mention he clearly had no intentions of backing away from my face. That is, until Fred finally stepped in.

"Well give her some breathing room or she'll never make it out of here," he told his twin, also having to physical pull him away from me. "So what _does_ bring you to this neck of the castle, Princess — a hangnail?"

I actually had to laugh at that one…and roll my eyes, of course. "If only," I told him.

"Well nothing appears to be broken…no cast or anything…" George, at this point, was just babbling to himself while circling the hospital bed and surveying me. "Or maybe Madam Pomfrey just hasn't bandaged you up yet…What if I touched something and re-broke it…What if I just broke it the first time…?"

"George!" Fred and I finally both said in unison. The redhead looked up at me with a childlike fear in his eyes. "George, I'm fine," I insisted. "It was just an ickle incident but it's over now. I just needed to rest."

"No, if you need to rest you go to your bed," George continued to press on. "If you're in the hospital wing, it must've been something horri —"

"I almost drowned!" I had to say it, I just couldn't take much more. But to see the look on his face — both of their faces, actually — almost made me wish I hadn't. "One of the blokes from my school knocked the Golden Egg into the lake and I went to go get it. That's it, I'm fine."

"That's _it_?" parroted George, in shock. "You make it said as though nothing bloody happened!"

"Nothing _did_ happ — !"

"You nearly died! That counts as something happening!" Fred remained quiet during all of this, just watching his brother yell and scold. I wonder if he felt the same. "Demetria, how could you be so…careless?!"

" _Careless_?!" Now it was my turn for shock. "Just where do you get the nerve to speak to me like that?! I hardly know you and you tell me what I did for the egg was _careless_!?"

"What you could've done to yourself is careless! Blimey, you must really have some kind of death wish! First you put your name into the Goblet, you take a dragon head on, and now _this_!? What's next?!"

I could see George regretted what he said as soon as he let it register that he'd said it. " _First you put your name into the Goblet_." I swore to Godric, if one more person had the audacity to accuse me of putting my name in that damn goblet… And whether he meant it or not, I truly didn't care at the moment. I shouldn't have even been associating with people like George or his brother. Soon I'd be a Death Eater and they'd hate me…and I was letting them get all too close to me that they then felt the opposite.

"Demetria, I didn't mean —"

"Get. Out." No more yelling. My voice was soft, my tone like ice. I made sure the words cut deep.

"Please, I'm sorry —"

"One of us has to walk away and I'm unable to."

"Then you'll have to stay and listen because I refuse to leave without you hearing me out."

"Then stay," I told him, a small smile touching his baby blue eyes. "But I'm leaving." I was certain I'd never gotten out of a bed faster in my life. This is counting all those Chrismases as a child, mind you. And seeing as how I didn't really have to stay in the hospital wing, I made a break for the large wooden exit doors. Not really running, but walking fast enough to get away from either Weasley twins if they tried to advance on me, which they did. But after countless calls of my name and reaches for my hand, I imagined Fred had finally stopped his brother and let me walk out. Because that was exactly what I did before quickly navigating my way out of the castle and out on to the grounds, where I started running to the ship. And once on deck and not even aware of what time it was, only that the sun was still tucked away, I made my way to the lantern-lit bowels of the ship and quickly located the bunk-bed I shared with Viktor. But upon trying to wake him, I found that was not necessary, for he was already awake.

"Demetria," he said a bit groggily. Perhaps I'd caught him just as he was about to doze off. "You are alright?"

"Yes yes, just peachy," I insisted shortly.

"Vhy is it you are so…jumpy?" he continued to question.

"'Cause we've got to talk about the egg!" I locked my combat boot-clad feet on a spot in the ladder just to retrieve said sparkling egg from my top bunk. "C'mon! I've got to tell you about what I heard!" A soft _thud_ was emitted upon my jumping back down to the deck.

"Can it not vait?" asked Viktor. "Dumbledore vishes to speak with you in his office in but a few hours. You vill need your rest."

"I rested plenty in the hospital wing, Vik!" I assured him before retrieving a wool jumper from the floor beside his bunk and tossing it on his head. "Now get a shirt on and let's move!"

"Can we not speak _here_?" Now he was just being whiny.

"No!" My voice was quiet, but urgent. Needless to say, I was not a very patient person. "I don't want scum like Pavel listening in! Hurry up!"

Viktor groaned but I saw him reluctantly getting up from his bunk as I was leaving. And it wasn't until he, too, emerged above deck that he threw the maroon jumper over his perfectly toned chest.

"Vell, vhat is it?" He looked to me expectantly. But rather than explain what I'd heard, I reenacted it. I softly sang the egg's song and watched Viktor's face light up in surprise. When I'd finished, he was silent for a moment, the only sound being the waters rocking the ship ever-so-slightly. "You vished to tell me…you can sing?"

"What? No! Viktor, were you even listening?!"

He chuckled. "Yes, of course…you just…" he grew more serious then. "…you sounded like the morska sirena I thought I heard."

"That's because you _did_ hear it, Vik! You must've heard the egg's song too!" I told him fervently. And upon seeing the puzzled expression on his face, I continued to explain before he could even ask. "When the egg opened underwater, _that_ was the song it sang. Everything after that — the light, the vibration — I can't really explain that 'cause I dunno for myself. But this song…it's the clue to the second task!"

Viktor looked as though he was just barely keeping up. Apparently, he was far more hung up on understanding the light and vibration. But after a moment, things seemed to click for him. But as he started to decode the song, I was already doing the same. "The morska sirena…they have taken something you vill miss…and if you do not find it in one hour…"

"Too late, it's gone, it won't come back," I recited.


	8. Chapter 7: The Voice of Reason

_**Chapter Seven**_

 _The Voice of Reason_

:.:.:

Needless to say, sleep had not been an option after decoding the egg's clue. In fact, I found myself seated on the ship's starboard railing until the sun began to untuck itself from behind the horizon line, despite the snow which now coated the grounds. It would have coated the ship's deck too, had it not been for Sasha's Charm to prevent such an incident. But anyway, even when it came time for breakfast, the blokes ascending from below deck, I didn't move — didn't even say a word. That was until Grigor had scurried over, appearing rather disheveled.

"Demetria," he began tentatively. "I must ask a favor from you." And in reply, I simply nodded for him to continue. "Vell, this Yule Ball…it is soon, yes? And I thought…vell vould you —"

"Sure, Grig!" I came off quite overly enthusiastic, hence Grigor's widened eyes and slight flinch backward, but I couldn't help it. Finally, I no longer had to worry about finding a _date_ to that sodding ball! And the only reason I hadn't considered Grigor sooner was because I just figured everyone but myself had already acquired their dates.

Grigor recovered from my near-shouting and told me rather excitedly, "Oh, thank you, Dem! Just make sure it is someone good looking, eh?" And with a nudge to my shoulder, he was off, catching up with the rest of the gents on their way to the castle. All I could do was sit there in mild shock. One of my own best mates hadn't even asked me to the ball…in fact, I was fairly certain he'd just asked me to ask some bird _for_ him! But how could I possibly do so when I had yet to find my own date?! Son of a banshee…

It wasn't long before I decided I _did_ want some breakfast after all. So I made my way off the ship and trailed far behind my fellow students before making it to the Great Hall, which recently acquired elaborate Christmas decorations. But no sooner had I done so, did a certain redheaded duo appear to block my entrance.

"Move, Weasleys," I demanded. It was true I was no longer angry with George, but it was also true I shouldn't have been getting so close to them…or to anyone else who wasn't related to someone and/or destined to become a Death Eater. But especially not those two. I wasn't sure why, there was just something about them. But rather than tell them that, it was much easier to pretend I was still mad. "I have nothing more to say to either of you."

"Now, don't you reckon you're just…over-reacting…just a _bit_?" George seemed to be far more careful with his words after the last ones he tripped over got us into this situation.

"Especially since I didn't do anything wrong," added Fred with a charming smile.

"Absolutely not," I told them both with a stone-cold expression. "Now move or I'll hex you both into next week."

And though reluctant, the twins stepped aside with a look of defeat, and I strode past them and over to my usual spot at the Slytherin table. And already seated and eating, were the same blokes I'd been sitting with…plus a rather pug-faced girl with short, jet black hair, one arm through Draco's.

"Draco, it's been a while," I greeted, taking my seat across from him, the girl, and Adrian, and beside Finn and Viktor. Grigor had also joined our side of the table recently, sitting beside Adrian. "Who's your bird?"

Draco's expression turned sour for a split second, before clearly putting back on the forced smile. "She's not my bird," he said it rather exasperatedly, as though it were the hundredth time…and maybe it was. He unlatched his arm from the girl's and explained. "This is Pansy Parkinson — my date to the Yule Ball, and _nothing more_." The last part was directed toward Pansy.

But all she did was smile. "Oh, Drakey, you under-estimate our love," she cooed, and I thanked Merlin I hadn't eaten anything yet, because it surely would've come back after hearing that.

"Well at least you've _got_ a date," I groaned. Adrian seemed to perk up a bit at this, even Draco's expression practically spelling out his regret of asking Pansy when he could've asked me. "Without a dance partner to open the ball, it looks as though this Champion's faking an illness come time."

"Demetria, if you truly need a date so desperately, I'm sure Pansy would understand," assured Draco, his eyes wide in urgency.

"No, Pansy would most certainly _not_ understand!" she argued, shoving her arm back through Draco's.

"You know, Demetria," Adrian began already flashing a small, winning smile. "I haven't asked anyone yet, _and_ I'm rather light on my feet…"

"Adrian, would you really go to the ball with me?" There was actually excitement laced within my tone. Although thanks to Grigor, the 'finding a date' situation was technically still not over. But it's much less stressful when the date is not for yourself.

"Oi! That's _my_ line," Adrian's face was serious, but he was teasing and I couldn't help but smile. "Demetria, would you be my date to the Yule Ball?"

"Of course, Adrian, you're a life-saver!" I told him, completely relieved. Although…there was actually still one problem…related to the ball, at least: I needed a —

"My pleasure," he said, genuinely grinning from ear to ear. "So what color dress do you plan on wearing?"

— _dress_.

"Er, I'll have to get back to you on that. Right now, I've got to —" But as I racked my brain for an excuse to leave, I remembered I did have one…which after grabbing Finn's wrist to check his watch, I realized I was late for. Sure enough, looking over at the staff table, Dumbledore was no where to be found. "— _Shite_." was all I said, and under my breath, before shooting up from the bench quickly leaving the Great Hall. I was supposed to meet Dumbledore in his office at eight o'clock to discuss the incident from the previous day. I just hoped 8:30 worked just as well for him.

I located the Headmaster's Tower with relative ease, having remembered it's location from Fred and George's tour. However, upon reaching the location where the large, stone gargoyle should have been, I found the gargoyle already gone, the spiral staircase revealed. Dumbledore must have left it open for me, because the twins had told me a password was required in order for the gargoyle to move. Nonetheless, I climbed up the steps until I came to the Headmaster's actual office. This was one location not included on the Weasleys' tour.

It was a large, circular room with many windows and many portraits, probably of previous headmasters and headmistresses. A portrait of Albus Dumbledore himself hung above and behind his desk. The room also held home to a number of spindly tables upon which were set delicate looking silver instruments that whirred and emitted small puffs of smoke. There was also what appeared to be an incredible collection of books, and even a rather large and brilliantly red phoenix which Dumbledore was tending to. But just as I was about to walk deeper into his office, a voice stopped me from doing so…and it wasn't Dumbledore's.

"I am sorry, Dumbledore," came my own headmaster, Karkaroff now in view as he strode over to Dumbledore. "but I have told you this before — I know nothing of which you speak."

"I am well aware of what you've told me, Karkaroff," The choice of words themselves sounded frustrated, but Dumbledore did not. His tone was that of quite the opposite actually. "I suppose I'm just finding it hard to believe that in all four years Miss Harris has been enrolled as your student, this has never come to your attention."

I didn't realize my nearly drowning was such a turn of events around here.

"Perhaps this is because an incident such as this has never occured during those four years," replied Karkaroff sharply. And though I couldn't make out their expressions from the distance (and also because I was keeping out of sight), I imagined Dumbledore had shot him a rather unapproving one because Karkaroff quickly apologized. "Apologies, Albus… I simply — Nothing has ever lead me to even consider this, you understand. Even now, this can be no proof. And you have wished to bring Harris in to see if she knows this? My dear friend, perhaps you are doing the looking too closely."

Considering they never even mentioned whatever it was they were discussing, I almost thought they knew I was listening. And despite my best efforts to attempt and decode their conversation as silence lingered in the air, I remained unsuccessful. And that was when Dumbledore spoke again.

"Perhaps…you are right, Karkaroff."

 _No, he's not!_ The voice in my head practically screamed. _This requires further discussion!_

But even if Dumbledore hadn't agreed, the conversation would have ended right there regardless. Because, as though he'd heard my thoughts, Karkaroff turned to find me standing at the top of the staircase. "Demetria," he said. And if he was at all surprised, he hid it well. "how long have you been standing there?"

"I just arrived," I lied with ease, pretending to move a foot from the last step. "Sorry I'm late, Professor Dumbledore."

Both headmasters made their way toward me, though only Dumbledore offered a small smile. "Quite all right, Miss Harris," he assured. "I only wished to check on your condition. How are you feeling?"

Oh, brilliant. Now I wasn't even going to get to speak with Dumbledore about whatever he just spoke to Karkaroff about! Maybe if I'd actually arrived on time… "Good as new." That wasn't a lie though.

"Pleased to hear it," said Dumbledore genuinely, a twinkle in his blue eyes behind those half-moon spectacles. "We _are_ counting on you to open the Yule Ball very soon, after all."

"In a matter of days, in fact," Karkaroff suddenly grew rather anxious. "Demetria, you are prepared, are you not?"

"Yeah, 'course, sir," And he visibly relaxed upon hearing so. When the silence returned, I decided to make my departure. "Well if I'm not needed, I s'pose I'd best be going."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, Miss Harris."

I merely smiled in reply and turned to make my way down the stairs. And I supposed it was time my list of priorities needed a bit of re-arranging considering Karkaroff was right — the ball was only a few days away. So where in the bloody hell was I supposed to get a dress?! And then it hit me — I did have _one_ hope.

Rather than run about the castle like a hippogriff without a head, I decided to wait until lunch time to locate my one chance at a dress. So when the bell sounded throughout Hogwarts and across its grounds, the blokes and I marched across the snow and into the Great Hall, and I broke off from the herd to do so. Making a bee-line for the Gryffindor table, my eyes immediately began scanning for flaming red hair. And then I found it — _her_ — Ginny.

"Hi, Ginny," I greeted brightly. I know, I know, I cut her brothers off and not her. But I needed Ginny, and she was easily the best — and sort of the only — female friend I had.

She was seated around a group of her friends who all appeared rather taken aback. But Ginny responded casually, mirroring my grin. "Hey, Demetria, what brings you to this side of the hall?"

"The Yule Ball actually," I told her, Ginny's expression falling.

"I'm not sure I can help you there, then. I can't go unless someone older asks me and no one's done so."

"Ace!" I exclaimed, and her disappointment shifted to confusion. "No, I mean — Would you like to go with a mate of mine?"

"Are you serious?!" she fervently asked me. All I had to do was nod. "Yeah, that would be great!" The girls seated around Ginny all whispered to one another, the envy evident in their faces.

"So you'll need a dress, right?" I pressed.

"Oh, right." And once again, Ginny appeared crestfallen. At first, I was unsure as to why, but I seemed to recall Draco mentioning something about the Weasleys and their financial issues.

"Well I need one too, and I'm rubbish at dress shopping because — Well, I've just never had to. So d'you want to go together?" But just as Ginny opened her mouth, probably to tell me she couldn't afford a new dress, my own words stopped her's. "I'm buying you a dress, Ginny Weasley, and don't even try telling me not to."

For a moment, she looked as though she might. But only a moment more, and Ginny's face was glowing again as she got up from her spot on the bench. "Well then we'd better get going."

"Don't you have classes?" I asked with a knowing grin. Not that I truly cared.

"Professor Binns won't even know I'm gone," she replied slyly, and we made our way out of the Great Hall. "C'mon, I know a secret passage to Hogsmeade." As did I, once again thanks to her twin brothers.

We spent the walk up to the third floor talking about Grigor, who was now Ginny's date to the Yule Ball. Or well, I talked and she asked about him. And once we came to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, Ginny gave the password — " _Dissendium_." — and the hump on the witch opened to reveal a short slide. Ginny signaled for me to go first, and when I did, I found myself in an underground tunnel with only one direction to take. Ginny joined me in said tunnel shortly and we began walking.

"Just how long will this take, exactly?" I asked curiously.

"I believe it's about an hour on foot," she replied.

"Then I guess it's a good thing we left early."

"Well that, and you shouldn't pass up an oppertunity to miss History of Magic," she said and we laughed.

"I s'pose it must be a requirement to be painfully boring in order to be a History of Magic teacher then, because the one back at Durmstrang certainly is," I shared.

"D'you have the same classes as us over there?" inquired Ginny.

"I should think so," I said. "Although…I reckon Hogwarts doesn't offer Dark Arts?"

"You mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?" she asked innocently. "Yeah, we've got that! The position's cursed though — we haven't been able to keep a professor for it. Mad-Eye Moody's teaching it this year, but I'm sure he won't last."

"Yeah? We don't have Defense Against…" I tried explaining again. "The class is just Dark Arts."

"Oh…" She seemed unsure of what to say next for a moment. "So d'you learn to… _use_ Dark magic?"

"Merlin, no!" I assured, and it seemed to ease her. "In fact, I'm sure it's rather similar to your class. They just teach us about the magic itself, not the defence part. But, well…I s'pose the defence is sort of implied."

"That makes sense," she reasoned contentedly. "Is that your best class?"

"Well, I mean, I'm sort of one of the top students at my school…" I admitted rather modestly. "But if I had to choose my best class…it would probably be Potions. I was actually moved to the fifth year Potions class."

"Wow, you really are good," Ginny seemed genuinely impressed. "You may have to lend me a hand with some of my Potions homework sometime."

"You're, what, a third year?" I assumed and Ginny's nod confirmed it. "That won't be a problem. Feel free to ask anytime," And she mirrored the grin I offered her. "Is Defense _your_ best class?"

"Yep," she said, popping the 'P' at the end. "But I feel like all witches and wizards are supposed to be good at it, y'know? Like it doesn't really require any skill. Potions, Transfiguration — not everyone's good at things like that."

"Maybe they are, but that doesn't make it any less skillfull," I convinced. "That's what Aurors are best at, isn't it? D'you reckon any witch or wizard could be an Auror?"

"I s'pose you're right about that," she said, another grateful smile coming through. "Y'know, Demetria, you really ought to just transfer to Hogwarts."

I had been so afraid someone would suggest that. "I really don't think my grandad'd approve," I tried to explain. "We're all each other has left and — Well, he really just wants me to follow in his footsteps. That's why I'm going to Durmstrang in the first place."

"Oh, I see," said Ginny. "So where did your parents go?"

The very same place I honestly wished I could have gone. "Here — Hogwarts."

"Then maybe you could try reasoning with your grandad," she suggested. "Tell him you want to go where your parents went. I know it's probably not my place to say this but…well, I think you should be able to go where you want. Your grandad'll still love you no matter what."

 _He'll still love me if I turn out to be a Gryffindor refusing to become a Death Eater, befriend the so-called "enemies", and go on to become a professional Quidditch player?_

If all that were true, I just couldn't imagine my own grandfather loving me anymore.

:.:.:

It took us, as it turned out, exactly an hour to reach the cellar of Honeydukes and casually slip out and into the streets of Hogsmeade. Although it felt much shorter of a time thanks to Ginny's commendable ability to keep a conversation flowing. And as it turned out, we had quite a lot in common. Aside, of course, from the fact that she was rather excited about the dress shopping, among other differences. But this difference was one I was thankful for, considering I would've had little next to no idea what I was doing had I been there alone. And by 'there', I meant Gladrags Wizardwear — a shop I'd passed many times, but never actually been inside. When Ginny and I walked in, it was nearly deserted.

"I know everything looks an ickle bit flashy or quirky, but trust me, that's not all there is," she assured me, and I followed her toward the back of the store which had been devoted solely to dresses. She immediately was magnetized to a rack of many different colored fabrics and began looking through. "D'you have any idea what you're looking for?"

"Karkaroff said something red," I told her. My eye then caught sight of a rack seemingly dedicated to dresses with an incredibly distasteful amount of sequins. "And nothing too…blinding."

Ginny looked over and followed my gaze to the rack, chuckling. "Karkaroff said that?"

"No, that one was from me." I wondered how disgusted my face must have looked for Ginny to continue laughing at it. But all I could think was, _what have I gotten myself into?_

:.:.:

"I love it!" I gushed at my reflection in the mirror of a dressing room. I'd been trapped in it for practically the entire time. "This is the one! Let's get it!"

But Ginny stood, unconvinced and smirking, in the door frame. "You do realize you've said that about every dress you've tried on?"

"I have not!" I insisted, placing both my hands over my chest to feign shock. "And I mean it — I really do love this one!"

"No, you don't," she saw right through me. "You just want to get out of here."

"Well can you blame me?" I dropped the act and really looked at myself in the mirror. It felt like the millionth red dress I'd tried on and it felt like they were all the same. If it were up to me, I would've walked out with the first one I tried on. But Ginny insisted none of them were "the one". "How did you find yours so fast?"

"Woman's intuition," she shrugged and walked off. "Try on the next one and I'll see if I can find any other red ones!"

I shut the door and slipped out of the dress I had on. Reluctantly, I reached for the next, shimmied into it, and then just…stopped, and stared at my reflection. I think I knew what Ginny meant now. There was just something about this dress — the line of sequins diagonal across the bust, the way it hugged my waist, the way it opened in the back with the two straps, the single beaded strap in front…

"Demetria, what's wrong?" asked Ginny from the other side of the dressing room door, worriedly. I suppose she was expecting my usual complaint or fake praise, because she opened the door, probably expecting me to have dropped dead. But her expression shifted to that of admiration upon seeing me. "See! Now _that_ one's a keeper!" But once again, she took my silence as a bad sign. "Well, you hate it but at least you're honest this time."

But just as she was about to walk off again, I stopped her. "This is the one," I said softly.

At first, Ginny looked as though she didn't know whether to believe me or not. "D'you mean that?"

I gave my first genuine smile — and answer — since I started trying on dresses. And that seemed a good enough answer for Ginny who beamed back. I reached up to take the hair tie from my head, the high ponytail I'd been sporting all day falling away. I hadn't magically straightened my hair that day, so my natural curls fell just past where the dress began.

"You should curl your hair like that for the ball," Ginny fervently suggested.

"I didn't curl it," I told her.

She sighed longingly. "You're so lucky your hair's naturally like that. All I've got is this," And she held up a lock of her pin straight, red mane. "I didn't know you straightened your hair, Dem. Quit trying to be something you're not." She _was_ only joking, because she smiled and playfully swatted my arm, but there was so much more truth to that than she knew.

:.:.:

Durmstrang students' nationalities consisted of Norwegian, Ukrainian, Russian, and Bulgarian. Even the very few stragglers, such as Finn and myself, possessed one — if not more — of said nationalities. Now, my point was that in each of those countries, the twenty-fourth of December was the big celebration day rather than the twenty-fifth. Granted, it was a bit strange the first time after spending countless Christmas Days with Grandad and Tinker. But I adapted quickly, and celebrated Christmas Eve with my Durmstrang brothers and all of their traditions. So it was no different when this December twenty-fourth came. Instead of spending it eating with everyone else in the Great Hall, Karkaroff spoke with Dumbledore and I spoke with Dobby about decorating and using the kitchens for our own traditional twelve-course meal that night. Naturally, both Headmaster and house-elf agreed to it. After all, we were only a small group so we didn't get in the way of the elves' cooking, and it was certainly better than having it on the ship.

"Miss Demetria," Dobby approached me after the twelve courses and as we were all just about to leave. "in case Dobby does not see Miss Demetria tomorrow, can Dobby give Miss Demetria her present now?"

I smiled down at the elf and his big, green eyes and told him, "Dobby, you're free now. You can call me Demetria."

"Dobby is sorry," he said innocently.

Kneeling down to be at his level, I couldn't help but release a giggle at him. "And yes, you can."

That put a huge smile on his face as he revealed a small package from behind his back and handed it to me. Upon unwrapping it, Dobby excitedly watching, I found a pair of thick, crew socks. And a mismatched pair, at that. One sock was bright red with a pattern of broomsticks; the other sock was green with a pattern of Golden Snitches.

"Dobby has made them himself, Demetria!" he told me gleefully. "He has bought the wool out of his wages, Demetria!"

"Aw, Dobby, I love them!" I happily told him. And honestly, I did. They were much more exciting than the pair I always borrowed from Viktor to use as slippers. "Thank you." And I placed a kiss upon the top of his head, his eyes practically leaking with happiness, before I got up to leave with the others.

The Great Hall was empty as we passed it, making our way on to the snowy grounds and on board the ship. Karkaroff retired to his cabin while the gents and I descended below deck and began the gift-giving portion of the evening. Viktor and I sat on his bottom bunk with Grigor and Finn on Grigor's own bottom bunk across from our's. We'd tossed the corresponding packages to one another, and began unwrapping.

From Viktor, a record of a Muggle band I was fond of called The Beatles; from Grigor, a box of my favorite candies; from Finn, a Tutshill Tornados scarf.

The thank-yous and hugs went around the group, everyone seeming really pleased with one another's gifts. But just as the excitement began to die down, all light sources nearly blown out, the hatch opened and Fred Weasley dropped down.

"Evening, gents," he said casually before spotting me. "Demetria, a word?" And with that, he'd climbed right back up above deck and though I would've much rather been cuddling up in my bunk, I followed suit.

"What is it, Fr — ?"

"Demetria, why're you doing this to us?" Fred's words cut into my own. "Especially George?"

"I'm not _especially_ doing anything to anyone," I told him.

"That may be, but he's taking it much harder than I am," he explained gravely. "And you're clearly having no problem talking to me now."

"You're right, I'm not, and that's the problem."

He didn't understand, his expression showed that. But I didn't expect him to understand. I didn't even want him to. "Dem, what're you on about?"

"I just — I really can't explain it," I said it so finitely that I just hoped the conversation could end there. But, of course, that wasn't the case.

"Well try," he insisted, all joking and lightness vanished from his eyes. "Because I'm not about to let the closest person to me in the world mope around on Christmas like a lost puppy."

I'd never seen him so serious, and it sort of scared me. I had to tell him _something_. "My granddad doesn't want me socializing with blood traitors." That wasn't my real reason, but it _was_ true.

For a moment, Fred only stared at me. And all I could do was stare back. Maybe it would've actually sounded better if I told him the truth. Because with the truth, he'd know I was trying to protect the both of them. But I was beyond relieved when the words out of Fred's mouth were not mean in the slightest. "Why d'you let him tell you how to live your life?"

But I wasn't about to have this conversation. "Goodnight, Fred." I turned to walk away, and his voice came again.

"You need to stop running away from this," he told me seriously. "You can't even talk about it. Look, I dunno what the situation is — maybe he's got something to hold over you," _Well yeah, my dead parents' approval._ "But I _do_ know you, and I know you're strong enough to break away from whatever hold he's got on you. Demetria, I'm not telling you to do this for me, or for George… I'm telling you to do this for yourself," And then, as if he hadn't just given me the speech of a lifetime, Fred casually slung both legs over the railing and winked…but with a genuine smile, and not his usual crooked, mischievous one. "Goodnight, Princess."

Perhaps the worst part was that he was completely right. And you _know_ things are bad when Fred Weasley becomes the voice of reason…


	9. Chapter 8: The Chosen Path

_**Chapter Eight**_

 _The Chosen Path_

:.:.:

 _I hold the silver, oval-shaped locket in the palm of my hand, the strange inscriptions staring back at me. I still haven't the slightest idea what they mean. I'm seated on the edge of a green, velvet-sheeted bed, and just as I begin to rise from it, I am greeted by a very young girl, running into the room and repeatedly shouting "Mum!" This child, clad in a red dress, bares a shocking resemblance to me, except for her eyes which are a pale blue._

 _"Mummy, come downstairs!" she prods, taking my hand in an attempt to pull me along. "Daddy said I could open one of my presents tonight!"_

 _But I find myself staring into her blue eyes before I can even think of responding. And just as I am about to, 'Daddy' comes strolling in._

 _"I hope that's all right, love." The voice is only remotely familiar, at best. And I don't look to see who it is until I've decided in my mind. But I quickly find out my speculation is wrong._

 _It looks like Lucius Malfoy, but the eyes suggest otherwise. These eyes are far too kind to be Malfoy's. Though I'm not entirely wrong, for it_ is _a Malfoy. Our supposed daughter stands between myself and an older version of Draco, his eyes meeting her's now._

 _"Why don't you head down, Aurora? Your mother and I will be right there." And after Aurora flees from the room, Draco's gaze returns to mine. "Y'know, darling," and then he steps in closer and whispers seductively in my ear, "we still need to have a boy_ … _if we want an heir."_

 _"_ We _don't, your father does," I clarify acidically, pushing Draco away from me._

 _"Well this is our life now," he says matter-of-factly. "Nothing we can do about it."_

 _I open my fist and stare at the locket. There_ was _something I could have done._

 _"No, Demetria, not this again," Draco says sternly. "It's time to move on."_

 _"You took my Light!" I accuse._

 _Draco quickly matches my increased volume and shouts back, "I took nothing! You gave it to me!"_

 _"Because I was forced to!"_

 _He doesn't say anything for a split second, but his expression is hard as stone. And in the second which follows, he snatches the locket from my hand and takes off. I'm shouting his name and running after him, down the grand staircase and through winding hallways. I only stop once after I catch a glimpse of myself in a hallway mirror. I hardly recognize myself. Sure, it sort of looks like me…but I'm older…and I look like…Narcissa Malfoy. And that's when I release a murderous scream at the sight, Draco now shouting my name from somewhere in the house._

 _"Demetria! Demetria!"_

–

"Demetria! Demetria! Dem, c'mon!"

I awoke, mid-scream, to find my body being shaken by Finn. And for a moment, all I could do was stare at him through the darkness, his sea-foam green eyes popping out against it. And he didn't even have to ask anything, for he was fully aware of what happened and was already helping me down from my bunk, a slight smashing sound emitted as he did so. Then we moved up the ladder, and through the hatch. As soon as I emerged from below deck, the December air immediately whipped against my face, then my bare arms and legs. Luckily, Finn came through the hatch with a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and my combat boots. He was already bundled up.

"What was it this time?" he inquired, moving over to the ship's starboard railing.

I followed and recounted the dream, though I was still in a bit of a haze as I attempted to tie up my combat boots once I'd put my feet in. Finn noticed my trouble and aided me, not only in lacing up the boots, but he also helped me get into the clothing which I figured was his own. By the time I was finished explaining my dream, so was he with clothing me in his black sweatpants and white Scottish flag sweatshirt, both of which were slightly big on me.

"So you didn't get another locket then?" he prodded almost teasingly.

My hand instinctively reached for the locket which was missing from around my neck. "I didn't even get that one back," I told him in bewilderment.

But just like last time, Finn remained unusually calm. "All right, so your mother gives it to you and you wake up with it…Draco takes it, it's gone… D'you s'pose it's somewhere around your bunk?"

"It's not, I went to sleep with it on," I replied, near tears. And I wasn't even sure why, but I knew I just felt like crying. And so I just…did.

Finn already had me wrapped up in his arms as soon as he detected the saddness in my voice. So I just returned the embrace and let his own sweatshirt sop up my tears.

I was just so tired of all these secrets. My own life was one, big mystery. And anytime I'd shut my eyes and try to sleep and escape it, I woke up with more questions than answers. And now I'd even lost my mother's locket…in a sodding _dream_!

"Shhh, Dem, it'll be all right," Finn cooed. "We'll figure this out, don't worry," And I could feel him smile against the top of my head as he spoke again. "Don't cry on Christmas."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that as I pulled away. But I did still swat at his arm teasingly.

The sun could be seen rising ever-so-slightly over the forest then, and that would mean everyone below deck would be waking up and getting ready for breakfast in the Great Hall.

"Happy Christmas, Finn," I said softly.

He returned the smile I gave him and said, "Happy Christmas…Demetrius."

"Really, Winifinn?" I said mockingly, but couldn't help cracking a smile. "Just had to go and ruin the moment?"

"I live for ruining moments," he teased, draping an arm over my shoulder. " _and_ helping mates decode mysterious lockets."

With his arm still snaked around me, we began walking off the ship and across the grounds. "Oh, is that right?" I said, feigning impression. "How many would you say you've decoded then?"

"Well as it turns out, madame, you are the first," he said, tipping his imaginary hat to me and winking.

Just as we'd made it to the castle and I'd stopped chuckling at Finn, I remembered why we were there in the first place. I mean, why we were ahead of the rest of our school who could then be seen casually making their way through the snow on the same path we'd taken (because there's no point in marching intimidatingly when in sweatpants or, like Grigor, footie pajamas).

"Oi!" I said suddenly, hitting Finn, who didn't react other than by looking at me. "How did you do that?"

"Get Grigor out in public in his footie pajamas?" he asked, appearing rather proud. "Well I saw his mum sent them to him and I used an art known as blackmail to —"

"Not that, you tosspo — That's because of _you_?" I looked again at Grigor and his fluffy cloud themed ensemble and caught sight of his miserable expression as he and the rest of the blokes drew closer. "Impressive."

And finally, Grigor and Viktor and the rest had passed Finn and I and entered into the Great Hall. But not before Grigor raised a certain finger to Finn, who returned the crude gesture with a thumbs-up.

"You just did it again!" I told him. And this time he just looked at me, still smiling, but with confusion. "You just…distract me. Had I been with Sir Puff N' Stuff, I'd still be worrying about the locket."

"That's because I'm a professional, Dem," and with that, he stepped toward the Great Hall entrance and pretended to hold open the door for me which was already propped open. "Ladies first."

But just as I was about to step through the threshold, I heard a certain voice behind me say, "You forgot to bow, mate." And another say, "If you're stealing our jokes, steal them right."

Upon turning, I found it to be the very same tall, lanky ginger twins I suspected. They were undoubtedly referring to the night they'd snuck me into the kitchens for a snack, and they'd used that same line and bowed. And I hadn't remembered until I saw the uncertainty plastered across George's face that I was supposed to be mad at him. Hard to believe it was just the previous night when his twin brother came and gave me the speech of the century.

"I'll meet you inside, Dem," Finn said to me before I figured he'd left. I wouldn't know for sure, my eyes had never left those of George Weasley. And then for what felt like hours we just stood there staring, him looking rather uncertain and I…Well actually, I wasn't entirely sure of what face I was making.

"Could you two hurry up this stare-off?" Fred interjected. "I'm rather famished." And I saw, from out of the corner of my eye, Fred signal me toward his brother with a rather pleading expression.

"Happy Christmas, George," I said finally, and with a genuine smile. Ugh, I was going to make for such a Godric-awful Death Eater. And the closer I got to them, the more they'd hate me once I became one. But I decided to ignore that for the time being, especially after watching George's face light up like…well, a child on Christmas morning.

"Happy Christmas, love," he said, and looked for a moment as though he might come in to hug me.

When he didn't, I put my arms out and said, "Come on then, you great git."

I didn't realize until he and I were embracing eachother that we'd never hugged before. And I hated to admit how much I liked it. Just the feeling of his arms around me, and how it felt different from when someone like Finn did it. Just his warm, ambery scent engulfing me. And I found myself getting far too caught up in all of it, so after what felt longer than it probably was, I looked out from against George's chest and found Fred just looking on with a smirk.

"Care to join, Freddie?"

"Nah, not much of a sharing bloke, Princess," Fred said, keeping his smirk intact and heading for the Hall entrance. "But you two have fun. Happy Christmas, and save me a dance tonight, would ya, lovie?"

At that, Fred left us, George releasing me and looking rather nervous about something. "So you're not mad anymore, right?"

"George, I don't often hug those I'm in a row with," I told him, which seemed to help visibly calm his nerves.

"Well you certainly would've made an exception for me," he said with his joking bravado back in check. "But I wouldn't be able to resist such a god-like figure such as myself either."

"Right, that must be it," I said, playing along with a smile of my own. "I just can't resist, is that it?"

"You can't, and I don't blame you," he continued. "Which is why my answer is yes, I'll go with you to the ball tonight. Just don't beg… Actually —"

I snapped right back into reality. "George, you don't have a date yet?" And I was so full of shock and disappointment that I hadn't realized how mean that must've sounded. "It's just that…No, I…I would've liked to go with you but…er, I thought you had a date and…now I do…"

"Oh no, no worries, no, not at all," he assured. "I've got a date, Demetria. Yeah, no, I was only joking around, y'know, just…pulling your leg."

"Oh, all right, well that's…good then, yeah?" I floundered. "We both have dates, I mean."

"Yeah! It's just great actually," George agreed.

"Excellent."

"Superb."

"Ace."

"Peachy."

"See you tonight."

"Save me a da — a damn seat."

"Good."

I turned and rushed off into the Great Hall, making my way immediately toward my usual spot at the Slytherin table.

 _Good_? What was I thinking? What even happened?! I didn't even have time to think as we were speaking. But none of that really mattered anymore once I sat down at the bench, for whatever the previous conversation had been, it ended as I arrived and shifted to me.

"So, Demetria," said Adrian at once. "Hope you're ready for tonight. I just went with the classic black-and-white dress robes if that's all right."

"Good," I told him. Bloody hell, _that_ wordagain. I began fixing myself a mug of coffee.

"Demi, I may know someone who can help interpret your dreams," said, of all people, Draco. I just stared from across the table for a moment. "Finn only mentioned you were having some rather unusual dreams."

I looked to Finn, but Viktor came to his rescue. "The entire cabin heard your screaming," he reasoned.

"Well alright then, just how far out of the way d'you reckon we'll have to go?" I asked Draco.

He released a small breath of laughter and assured me, "Not far."

–

"A Seer! Right here in the bloody castle! And this is the first I'm hearing about it!" said Finn, astounded. "This wasn't in _Hogwarts: A History_!"

We were standing in the classroom of a Professor Trelawney, teacher of Divination at Hogwarts. Although it didn't look like much of a classroom at all. More like a cross between an old-fashioned tea shop and someone's attic. But apparently, at least according to Draco, this was the woman to see on dreams.

"Don't wet yourself, Finnick," I told him. "We don't even know if this woman's a load of rubbish or not."

"The Inner Eye speaks for itself, Demetria Harris," came a soft, misty voice. And upon turning, I found it to be who I assumed was Professor Trelawney.

My immediate impression was that of Rita Skeeter in a disguise…or not much of one, really. They both resembled large, glittering insects, differences only perceived once she moved closer to Finn and I.

Trelawney wore large spectacles which greatly magnified her bug-eyes. She was swallowed up in a spangled shawl with numerous chains and beads hanging around her neck. Her arms and hands were jingling with bangles and rings.

Finn immediately looked to me with a smirk as if to say 'I told you so.'

"So she knows my name," I dismissed airily. "Anyone with the slightest clue of this sodding tournament could piece that together."

But Finn remained unphased, as did Trelawney, who was then ushering us toward one of the small, circular tables encircled by fat little poufs. Finn collapsed on his knees on to one first while I remained reluctant.

"Sit, my child," insisted Trelawney. I did, but I couldn't help thinking what I'd just gotten myself into. "Now then, to what do I owe this visit?" She sank into a pouf at the same table, her eyes buldging out and darting between Finn and I.

"Nothing," I said abruptly, shooting off the pouf. "Wrong part of the castle." I turned to leave, but Finn's arm reached out to stop me.

"What're you afraid of?" he stood up and whispered to me.

"Nothing!" I whispered back fervently. "I just don't reckon we're going to be getting any straight answers from Miss Crystal Ball For Brains!"

"Or maybe you're scared of what we'll find out," he said gravely.

I actually pulled back and looked to him. "Why would that scare me?" I asked as though he knew something I didn't.

He immediately shrugged, telling me in innocence, "You just may not like what you find, is all."

And Finn had a point, that maybe some secrets were better off kept. But then I remembered how I broke down in tears from all of my frustrations, and I remembered how tired I was of the secrets.

"I want to know," I decided aloud. Finn half-smiled encouragingly and we both sank back into the poufs. Trelawney was waiting, her eager eyes as big and bug-like as ever.

"Are we ready to begin?" she asked us, though mainly me. Finn and I shared a look before nodding toward Trelawney, who immediately began rattling her many bangles as her hands flew about. "I am Sibyll Trelawney, Seer of the Inner Eye, teacher of the —"

"Yes yes, that's all very good, now can we skip the theatrics? I'd like answers," I snapped.

Trelawney's face slowly fell, her eyes shrinking back down to a reasonable size…for a bug. "Very well," she said slowly. "Tell me about these dreams, my dear."

And so I did. Careful not to miss any detail, I recounted my first dream and how I received the locket, and then my most recent dream and how I'd lost the locket. Trelawney's eyes never moved from mine until I had finally finished. But she allowed my final words to hang in the air for a moment, and she looked away as if to ponder what she'd just heard. Nothing registered across her face until her eyes finally made their way back to me and she whispered sympathetically, "The poor child is destined to be a Death Eater."

Note to self: Thank Draco for _all_ the help.

"No shite, I'm destined to be a Death Eater!" I shouted, standing up and nearly flipping the table. "How about telling me something I _haven't_ known since I was seven years old!?"

"I was not speaking to you, my child," said Trelawney, remaining completely calm. She closed her eyes and I let my anger subside before risking a glance at who she _had_ been speaking to — Finn.

He was staring blankly ahead, his expression as unreadable as…well, Trelawney. I didn't even know what to say to him…if there was anything _to_ say. I'd been right when I said Finn and I didn't know one another. And now he had to find out one of my darkest secret the hard way. And then I thought of all my other dark secrets… What if they were to be revealed tonight as well?

"Finn, you can leave," I said, barely audible. "If you want," I added when he didn't respond for a while.

But he finally did reply, though his head remained facing forward. "I'm not leaving," he said, his voice hollow. "I deserve to know."

"Deserve to kn — ?"

"Anything else you're hiding!" He looked at me, but I would have preferred it if he'd just kept staring ahead. I'd never seen him so angry. "And don't tell me that we barely know eachother, because I spilled my heart out to you on, what, our third day of speaking?!" He was standing now, moving closer to me. "And I've been the one helping you through all of this! And not _once_ , did you ever even _care_ to mention or perhaps even drop a bloody _hint_ that you would one day become a _fucking Death Eater_!?"

I swallowed hard, staring at Finn, and had to find my voice before speaking. "No one was supposed to know!" I wasn't yelling, per say, but I spoke loudly enough to compete. "No one was ever s'posed to find out about me until they no longer knew me!"

"No longer knew you?!" he parroted. "What does that even mean?! You're telling me if I ask Viktor or Grigor they won't have any idea what I'm talking about!?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I'm telling you!" I said. "They don't know! No one does! No one except my grandad and Draco and —"

" _Malfoy_ knows?!"

"Malfoy is expected to become one too! His father and my grandfather have been taking us to meetings and gatherings since we were seven!" Alright, so perhaps _then_ I was yelling. "Ugh, listen! The whole plan was for me to graduate from Durmstrang, cut ties with Viktor and Grigor, marry a Pure-blood, and join the Death Eaters! By then, no one would remember me or care about me, and they could read about it in the bloody _Prophet_ or something!" I took a moment to breathe, my voice coming back just as strong but not as loud. Even Finn's expression seemed to be softening ever-so-slightly. "Vik and Grig used to be the only ones I had to worry about. But now there's _you_ , and the twins, and Ginny, and Godric-forbid Harry Potter!"

I dropped right into the pouf, silence speaking once again. But it wasn't Finn who spoke after it, much to my dismay.

"Darkness may line your path, but there is Light in you," said Trelawney in a distant voice.

Finn and I turned to look at her, hoping she might say more. When she didn't, I spoke up. "That's what I keep hearing in these dreams. What does it mean?" I asked urgently.

"It means you're a good person," said Finn softly. And I knew there must have been a deeper meaning to it, but Finn was speaking from the heart. I could hear that, even without looking at him. I hoped that meant I was forgiven.

"Certainly that, my dears," said Trelawney once again in a distant, misty voice. And even more so when she spoke next. "Demetria Harris, there is _Light_ within you."

"Yes, we've established th —"

"Capital L." Trelawney's bug-eyes flicked upward, as did her body from the pouf, and she stumbled across the floor to one of her many shelves. They were all lined with odd sorts of trinkets, but she returned to the table with a quill. And without parchment or ink, she began dragging the quill against the table. It screeched until she'd finished, throwing the quill down and saying, "Light. Capital L."

Finn and I had to stand up and walk around to see that Trelawney had carved into the table the very same inscription which was on my locket.

"This means Light?" I asked fervently.

"Yes," was her, still distant, reply.

"So, 'don't take my light' is 'don't take my locket'?" asked a still very confused Finn.

"No!" Trelawney whipped around. "The Light is inside _you_!" She pointed to me. "Inside the locket! You don't have the locket?"

Finn and I shook our heads.

"You must go so I can recover!" Trelawney instructed, still shaking and sounding odd. "Return! But only with the locket! It is the key!"

"Wait, what language is it in?!" I practically begged her to tell me.

"Return with the locket!" She grabbed on to me by the shoulders, her eyeballs flickering up into her head. Finn ripped me away from her and pulled me along out of the room. He opened the hatch and moved me along through it until we were both making our way down the ladder.

When we finally dropped back into the castle corridors, it was as though nothing had even happened. The bell had just rung and students were bustling along the staircases, making their way down to lunch. I stood still, rather shaken…and frustrated.

"I'd say that aside from finally decoding that inscription, that was pointless," said Finn.

"Even so, it was still rather pointless," I said desolately. "We still don't know what bloody language it's in . . . or what it even means, really."

"We're closer than we were an hour ago," he offered. "We'll just come back when you've got the locket and get all the answers we need. Now, let's go eat. I need to rest my Inner Eye."

But as it turned out, there was simply no time for resting. Not for me, anyway. As soon as Finn and I had come within earshot of the Great Hall, we were automatically approached by Ginny and Hermione who seemed to have just finished a conversation with one another.

"Demetria!" Ginny greeted rather anxiously. Her eyes darted to Finn in a flash. "Is this Grigor?"

I couldn't determine why she appeared hopeful at that… _until_ I realized she'd never seen or actually even _met_ Grigor before. "Er, no, sorry," I apologized. "I know you two should've met sooner but I've been b —"

"It's fine," Ginny assured, seeming slightly crestfallen. "I just…don't know who to look for."

"I'll send him off with Viktor and you can go with Hermione to wherever they've arranged to meet," I suggested with a sort of upward inflection.

"Ace," she commented, anxiousness then replaced with excitement.

"So Demetria," began Hermione rather tentatively. "we were wondering if you'd…like to get ready for the ball with us."

"Hermione offered me, and… Well, we just thought you'd prefer a girls' dormitory rather than a ship full of…testosterone-filled gorillas," said Ginny, quoting me on what I'd called my Durmstrang brothers.

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great actually," I told them thankfully. "'Cause I've absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"So it works out then," said Ginny with a small chuckle.

"Why don't you just meet me here around five o'clock and I can take you up to the dormitory? Ginny'll already be there." suggested Hermione.

"All right, I'll see you both then."

And after we'd exchanged our "see you"s and parted ways as we entered the Great Hall, I realized I'd possibly just added another person to my list of people who will especially hate me after I become a Death Eater. And speaking of becoming a Death Eater, Draco was the first to speak to me as I sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Y'know it's not too late to switch dates, Demetria," he practically begged with What's-Her-Pug-Face draped over him once again.

"Oh but it is," Adrian interjected, his hand crashing down on Draco's shoulder comfortingly. "Sorry, mate." And he truly did look it.

"D'you reckon I could get a nap in before the ball?" All I wanted to do was have another dream and get that locket back.

My question had been directed toward Finn, but Grigor replied with a mouth full of turkey. "This ball is not until eight. You haff much time."

"I'm s'posed to start getting ready at five," I explained.

Being that I was surrounded by blokes (I'd say 'except for Draco's bird' if it hadn't been for that _face_ ), all of them looked to me in complete and utter confusion.

"You need three hours?" asked Draco incredulously, speaking for the rest of the gents.

" _I_ don't need three hours," riffed Whatever-Her-Bloody-Name-Was.

But it was really just to Draco, so the rest of us ignored it. Actually, even Draco ignored it. And then I believe it was Adrian who made a comment about how they didn't understand birds, and that became a rather heated debate with Pug who swore men were far more complicated. I, personally, was no longer even paying them any mind. I focused solely on my food and…the Light, though I still had no idea what it meant. But I'd spoke too soon, because I did figure something out…just not necessarily about the locket.

 _The Light…the sodding Light… Light with a capital L. Huh, there's a difference? Oh, just focus. Don't let him take my Light. The locket…Light…_

 _"And then just bevore she floated to the surface, there vas a flash of light from underneath the water…"_

 _Flash of light…or is it flash of Light? Oh what the bloody hell is the difference! Wait, the light…the egg! The clue!_

"Son of a banshee," I swore under my breath, immediately rising from the bench and seeking out the Hufflepuff table.

Ignoring the questioning from the blokes as I took off, I made my way over to the other side of the Great Hall and seeked out Cedric. Luckily, I was able to spot him due to the excessive use of his name. There was a whole group of younger students huddled around him, practically praising him by the looks of it. Nevertheless, he appeared thankful when I interrupted.

"Demetria!" he enthusiastically welcomed me before I had the chance to speak. "D'you need a word in private?" And he'd already stood up from the bench, his ickle fan club shooting me daggers.

"Um, yeah," was the brilliant response I'd mustered up. Not that it mattered, because Cedric was already practically dashing out of the Hall before I'd even replied. I kept pace with him though as we exited the Hall together.

"I really did though," I told him. "Have to speak with you in private, I mean."

"Well no offense, but I planned on using you for that excuse either way," he told me with a charming smile.

For a moment, I was so caught up in that smile that I'd forgotten what I needed to say. I just smiled back until he arched his eyebrows, urging me to get on with it, I'm sure.

"Right, yeah!" I felt idiotic as I said it, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. "Oh! The egg!"

"You solved it then?" he guessed.

"Yeah it's — You've got to open it underwater and listen," I explained.

Realization flickered across his face. "Mermaids?"

 _"…and… Vell, I had thought for a short moment I heard a…morska sirena."_

"Er, yeah," I said slowly, my head growing foggy. "Just…pass it on to Harry."

"Sure thing. Blimey, I really owe you, don't I?" And I just looked to him in confusion, my thoughts clearing up as I came to. "You've tipped me off on both tasks and I haven't been able to do the same."

"Well then," — the bell sounded — "the third one's all you."

"You've got it," said Cedric, smiling. "You still owe me a dance tonight."

"Given the stakes, I'd say _you_ owe _me_ ," I teased.

Cedric and I smiled at one another until the sea of students began their stampede out of the Great Hall. But we continued to grin like complete tossers until we lost sight of one another. That was when I moved off to the side of the entrance and waited for a familiar face to stroll by. But after the first few faces I saw were _not_ , I simply gave up and made my way back toward the ship.

The snow out on the grounds still remained completely untouched, aside from the deep channels up to the castle made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students and, obviously, myself. And suddenly, I felt the urge to disturb that untouched snow. So I began branching out from the paved pathway, trudging actually being a more appropriate term. It then dawned on me how burly or just plain strong my brothers really had to be to move any of this sodding snow. I watched them plow that pathway without so much of a struggle. But no such luck for a girl of my size. So I simply began trying to hop through it…that absolutely did not work.

And no sooner did I try it than I heard the shouts of Fred Weasley. "Very graceful, Princess!"

Upon turning, I found him standing with George, Hermione, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. "Saw that, did you?" I was thankful they couldn't see how rather sheepish I must have looked.

"Couldn't miss it!" George shouted back, all five of them making their way toward me then. "Care to join us in a snowball fight?"

Ron ran up to George and we were all then close enough for me to hear him say, "Then it's uneven!" He then turned back. "Unless Hermione wants to join!"

"No thank you!" she called from the castle steps quite a ways back. I could tell by her tone that he'd asked her at least a hundred times already.

"Then uneven the teams shall be," declared Fred.

"And don't get your rainbow unicorn bloomers in a bunch, Ronniekins," George said at once to silence his younger brother whose mouth had opened and closed in that moment. "You two beasts can have the beauty. You'll need all the help you can get." He and Fred high-fived perfectly without even looking to each other.

"And _you_ two ginger mingers don't get _your_ fairy princess knickers in a twist," I shot back at the twins good-naturedly, detecting chuckles from Harry and Ron behind me. "I never agreed to play."

Fred and George shared a look before peeking into their trousers and then looking back at me.

"How did you know we wore fairy princess knickers on Tuesdays?!" George gushed, his hands over his heart.

"Speak for yourself, Georgie. I've decided to keep it festive today with a bit of mistletoe," said Fred. And what scared me most was that I had absolutely no idea if he was joking or not…

"Well thank you, Fred for the nightmares I'm sure I'll be having during my nap now," I told him, only half-jokingly, as I attempted to get past the two of them; they wouldn't allow that, however.

"Sorry, love, but there's a toll to pay if you want to get on your ship," said George, he and his twin now wearing their mischievous grins.

"And let me guess, that toll is a snowball fight," I stated dryly.

"Precisely!"

"Oh, but do perk up, Dem," advised Fred. "We've taken the liberty of upping the ante so as not to bore your majesty."

"I'm listening." What were they up to?

"The losers must lay buried in snow for five minutes…stripped down to their fairy princess knickers —"

"— or mistletoe —" said Fred proudly.

"— or rainbow unicorn bloomers —" George eyed Ron.

"— or leopard thongs —"

"For the princess?" inquired George, intrigued.

"Nah, for Harry. I reckon he's got a wild side." I figured it was Ron who I heard chuckle at Fred's response. "What were _you_ thinking for the Princess?"

"I dunno, I was hoping to get to Harry first actu —"

"It's on!" I declared, turning back and bringing Harry and Ron back a ways before huddling up with them.

"Just for the record, I don't wear, nor do I even own, any rainbow unicorn bloomers," Ron assured Harry and I.

"I'll be honest, Ron, I find it a bit unsettling you felt the need to actually tell us that," I told him, earning a chuckle from Harry; Ron's ears brightened with pink just as I'd seen George's do. "Then again, I don't exactly want to find out for myself…"

"Then let's win this!" cheered Harry determinedly.

And win it, we did. The snowball fight continued until Hermione called out to me that it had reached five o-clock and Ginny would be waiting for us.

"Looks as though I won't be able to bury you in the snow myself, gents," I said to the twins, making my way toward Hermione who was waiting at the stone steps of the castle.

"What, you need three hours?" Ron called out to us. And I'd turned around just in time to watch George throw a large snowball right at the side of Ron's head.

"We win!" the twins chorused.

Ron ignored the snowball and shouted to Hermione, "Who're you going with?" Hermione simply waved.

"Hold on, Princess!" George called out to me. "A deal's a deal!" And then I, too, simply waved, Hermione and I laughing as we made our way towards the first staircase.

"So why's it such a big secret that you're going with Viktor?" I cautiously inquired.

"It's not," she insisted airily. "I just haven't told anyone but Ginny." And then she looked to me curiously. "How did you — ?"

"Vik's one of my best mates," I explained. "Although he didn't exactly come right out and tellme either. I saw you two in the library and used it against him."

"That happens quite a bit actually — us in the library," Hermione shared. "But we don't do much talking."

I smirked at her implicitly. "You saucy minx, you."

"Oh no, I didn't mean _that_!" she insisted, blushing fiercely. "We just — Well he mostly watches me study."

"Viktor's a bit shy with the birds," I told her. "I'm actually surprised he asked you at all."

"Well believe me, I hadn't exactly thought I'd be going with him," Hermione's tone grew bitter when she spoke again. "But seeing as how Ronald decided to wait until Viktor asked me to ask as a last resort…" And she didn't finish, but didn't need to. She simply gave an exasperated sigh.

"Ah, so it's Ron you fancy then, is it?" I inquired.

"Absolutely not," she frowned. "Ron is like a brother to me. Romantic feelings for one another are simply nonexistent."

I could tell she was lying, or at least I thought she was. And then I remembered something.

"Oh bollocks…" I cursed under my breath, but Hermione heard it.

"Demetria, your language," she scolded as we continued to make our way along the changing staircases.

"Sorry, It's just…" But it wouldn't be in anyone's best interests to reveal that Viktor truly fancied Hermione, considering she didn't exactly reciprocate said feelings. And besides, it wasn't my place…though that certainly never stopped me before. "I just remembered I never got to see what my grandad sent me for Christmas." I'd used it as a lie, but it was true.

"Oh, well did you want to go back and see?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Nah, I'll see it later," I assured her.

"Well wait, d'you have your dress?"

"I left it with Ginny. Figured it'd be safer out of the way of the gorillas," I explained.

We halted in front of a portrait of a very fat lady wearing a pink silk dress who said, "Password?" to which Hermione replied with, "Fairy lights." The portrait then swung forward, revealing a circular hole in the wall which Hermione and I climbed through.

The Gryffindor common room reminded me quite a lot of the one back at Durmstrang. They both possessed the roaring fireplace, numerous tables, and different types of scarlet seats. Really the only difference between the two was that Durmstrang's common room had _more_ scarlet couches and armchairs, being that it was also far bigger than the circular room I was standing in.

I followed Hermione up one of the two spiral staircases, but she stopped me just as we'd reached what I assumed was the door to the fourth year girls' dormitory. "Just so you know, my room-mates can be a bit…unbearable," she warned me before opening the door. And sure enough, it revealed two girls screaming like banshees and jumping on to the four-poster beds.

Both were clad in bright colored dresses, their hair looking like they had just been in the midst of grooming it. One girl was light-skinned with blonde hair, the other presumably Indian with long, black hair. Ginny also looked to be in the middle of untangling her long, red mane, but had quickly drawn her wand, eyes determinedly scanning the floor.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"There's no mouse, you tossers," Ginny snapped at the birds, ignoring Hermione's question…but also answering it. "You just stepped on your bathrobe."

The girls stepped down from their beds and made their way back over toward the full-length mirror where the blonde picked up her fuzzy, purple bathrobe.

"Better safe than sorry." She scowled.

"Y'know she's got a point there, Gin," I interjected, causing the two banshees to jump. "You can never be too careful with natural fibre weavings — all soft and fuzzy and whatnot."

Ginny and Hermione stifled laughter, the other two girls looking unamused.

"And who are _you_?" the blonde asked me.

"Demetria Harris," I said it as though it were an insult for them not to know. And quite honestly, it sort of was. I was one of the sodding champions for Merlin's sake. But as soon as I saw both of their faces light up, I almost wished they had remained clueless on who I was.

"The winner of the First Task!" gushed the dark-skinned girl.

"Only girl at Durmstrang!" added the blonde before rushing over to me, arm extended. I reluctantly shook it. "I'm Lavender Brown, this is Parvati Patil. It's an honor to have you in our dormitory!"

"We're huge fans!" Parvati told me.

"You two are aware I'm from an opposing school?"

"Of course."

"We think you're _far_ better than that Fleur Delacour," said Lavender.

Alright, so perhaps they weren't _totally_ unbearable.

–

"Demetria, you've got to stay still," Hermione instructed for the upteenth time. And I _would_ have, had it not been for the pain she was inflicting upon me. She claimed she was doing my makeup, but I was fairly certain she was dragging very dull daggers across my eyelids.

Hermione and Ginny had finished getting ready before I did, and I could only hope I would look at least _half_ as good as they did — Ginny in her mint green dress, her long, red hair falling in gentle waves; Hermione in her floaty periwinkle-blue dress, light brown hair twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. And I'd helped her apply liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion in order to transform her naturally bushy hair to the sleek and shiny mane which she now possessed.

"There, done," Hermione proudly declared.

I risked a glance in the mirror and could hardly believe the girl staring back was myself. The red dress I'd already been amazed by, but I still found myself in awe over it. My eyes were outlined with a black liner, my lids and creases were shimmering with a silvery eyeshadow, and my lashes were coated with mascara. Even my lips, which possessed nothing more than clear lip gloss, looked better. And though the three of us had agreed to leave my hair to embrace it's natural curls, I loved how Ginny had helped me pin it half-up-half-down, the top half spun into a knot similar to Hermione's.

"So _this_ is what it's like to have girl mates," I said, mostly to myself.

I could see Ginny and Hermione exchange smiles to one another from the mirror, before coming in and placing a hand on my shoulder from both sides.

Yep. Hermione had definitely made the list.

–

"I s'pose Ron and Harry've already gone down," Hermione observed as we climbed down the stairs from the dormitory.

"That's too bad," said Ginny. "I wanted to see Ron in his dress."

"Ron's wearing a dress?" I asked in amusement.

"Might as well be. Those robes are ghastly," Ginny commented.

"Can't wait to see," I said; we all gave a chuckle, making our way out of the Gryffindor common room.

The entrance hall was packed with students, all milling around in a sea of color, waiting for eight o'clock when the doors to the Great Hall would open. Those from different Hogwarts Houses and even schools appeared to be searching for one another around the edges of the massive crowd. My own eyes scanned said crowd, not for _my_ date, but Hermione and Ginny's. Actually, mainly just Ginny's. I had to make sure Grigor looked presentable.

"Viktor!" Hermione called out before I could even so much as look in the direction which he stood.

But sure enough, there he was, and with Grigor (who, as it turned out, didn't require my assistance thankfully).

Hermione made her way over to Vik, Ginny quickly looking to me with a significant glance. I nodded as if to confirm that the bloke standing next to him was Grigor. She smiled and mouthed me a thank you before walking off with Hermione. And as I looked over, Viktor and Grigor were both resting their eyes upon me. Grigor appeared as though he'd never seen me before in his life, and Viktor had closed his mouth for him, smiling at me and giving a thumbs-up which I returned. And with that, I finally began searching for my own date, though I wasn't for long. It just wasn't Adrian who found me first.

"'Scuse me, beautiful stranger," came an all-too-familiar Scottish-accented voice. "have you seen a Miss Demetria Harris?"

"Oh shut it," I said humorously. "First Grigor doesn't recognize me, now you?"

"In all seriousness though, Dem, you do look beautiful," he complimented.

"You're looking rather beautiful tonight yourself, Winifinn," I told him with a good-natured smile which he returned, giving me a gentle push.

"Any sign of Prince Charming yet?" he inquired.

I stole another quick glance around and shook my head. "I'm almost certain Adrian plans on being fashionably late."

"I wasn't talking about Adrian." Finn smirked, his head gesturing for me to turn around.

At first, I wasn't sure who I was supposed to be looking for, until I saw him — Cedric — looking as handsome as ever in his black and white dress robes. He seemed to have just found his date — an oriental girl with shining dark hair in an elegant up-do, and a long-sleeved, silver dress. It was when Cedric reached out to take and kiss the girl's hand, that my heart sort of…dropped into my stomach. And then I recalled what Finn had said.

"I dunno what you mean," I turned abruptly to tell him, but he had re-located. I found him only a bit of a ways off, speaking with the bird I assumed was his date. I'd never seen her before, but judging by the group she'd arrived with, I'd imagine she was a Slytherin. That dreadful bird with the pug-like face was one of those people. She was clad in a frilly dress of pale pink, clutching Draco's arm for dear life, as though he may try to sneak off, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he did.

Branching off from the Slytherin group now was Adrian, his black velvet robes possessing a splash of red from a small handkerchief. He smiled as soon as he caught sight of me, striding right over.

"How'd you know I was wearing red?" I asked him before he could utter a single word.

"Would you believe…a lucky guess?" he offered.

"Not for a moment." I smirked.

"Then how about I brought a number of colors and spotted you before you could me?"

I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "Did you?" I curiously asked.

In reply, Adrian revealed the left inside pocket of his robe. Sure enough, it appeared to be packed with something. He reached in to pull out a few different colored handkerchiefs before tucking them away again.

"Well I'm impressed," I told him, chuckling.

"Only the best for a champion," he told me, grinning.

And then, as if right on cue, that Professor McGonagall appeared to call out, "Champions over here, please!"

Adrian and I did just that, the other champions and their dates following suit. McGonagall instructed us to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; we were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students sat down. Phlegm and her date, a bloke I didn't recognize, positioned themselves nearest the doors. This didn't surprise me that Phlegm would want to be the first one everyone laid eyes on. Cedric stood with his date in front of Adrian and I. He turned back for just a moment to smile and wink at me. I mentally scolded myself when my heart skipped. What the sodding hell was wrong with me?!

Harry stood behind me with — if you can believe it — Parvati, one of Hermione's screaming banshee roommates.

Once the doors had opened, everyone walking past us and settling in their seats, McGonagall told us to keep in our lines, stand by our partners, and follow her. That was exactly what we did. The Hall errupted in applause and even some cheers as we started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were all seated.

The walls of the Hall had been lined with sparkling silver frost, hundreds of garlands of mistletoe (reminding me of Fred) and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished with a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones seating about a dozen people, taking their places.

I stole a quick glance over at Adrian who seemed to be enjoying himself, my arm linked in his. Or perhaps he was just good at acting like he was enjoying himself. I, for one, hadn't particularly cared for it, but I was sure Karkaroff would've wanted me to at least pretend, so I smiled at the students. Only when I found Fred and George at their table did my smile become genuine, both twins staring with their jaws dropped. I winked at them.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the rest of the champions, myself, and our partners approached the top table, while Karkaroff's narrowed eyes distracted the rest of the champions from seeing the thumbs-up he was giving me from low at his side. Ludo Bagman, in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had traded her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding us politely. But it took me a moment to realize Mr. Crouch was missing. And instead, in his place in the fifth seat, was a red-headed bloke in navy blue dress robes a rather smug expression. In fact, it looked to be one of the Weasleys. And according to Fred and George's descriptions of their elder brothers, I assumed this was Percy.

When we all reached the table, Percy drew out an empty chair beside him, staring at who I was relieved to find out was Harry and not myself. Though Adrian and I were still seated rather close by, no food on the glittering golden plates before us. No waiters either. Just small menus lying in front of each. I picked mine up and began to review, for I was familiar with such dining. It was customary at the annual Christmas Ball held by the Malfoys. In fact, now that I'd thought about it, everything about this Yule Ball seemed similar to the Malfoy's ball.

Held for the most elite of pure and half-blood society (mainly Death Eaters or those who supported), Grandad's and my attendance had been consistent every year for as long as I could remember. In fact, I'd actually danced with Adrian at each one! But I couldn't believe I'd forgotten! He'd even tried kissing me when I was ten and he was twelve!

I laughed to myself as I recalled it.

"What did you think of?" Adrian asked me urgently. "Because I _know_ you're not laughing at this bloke's story."

I heard a bit of Percy's discussion of his job with Harry and confirmed Fred and George conclusion on Percy being a stick in the mud.

"I'll tell you later," I assured Adrian, placing my menu down and saying clearly into my plate, "Roast beef." It appeared instantly.

"It looks as though Demetria gets the idea," said Dumbledore pleasantly before saying into his own plate, "Pork chops!" They appeared.

The rest of the table caught on, declaring their own orders into their plates. No one really spoke much for a while — except Percy, mainly — for we were all occupied with eating. Conversations started back up once the feasting had begun to dwindle down.

"So, Demetria," began Adrian. "How does Hogwarts compare to Durmstrang?"

I swallowed a forkful of roasted potatoes before answering. "Well, we have a castle too, but I wager it's not as big as this one. We've only got four floors. But our grounds are larger than these. Though during this time of the year, we don't have much daylight, so we don't enjoy them as much. But come summer time, we fly almost every day, over the lakes and mountains —"

"Now, now, Demetria!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes. "Don't go giving away anything else, now, or else your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy… One would almost think you didn't want visitors."

He didn't. At least, that's what I figured. Karkaroff was always insistent on making our school Unplottable, concealing its whereabouts so no others could steal our secrets. We weren't hiding anything Dark like some contrary rumors said. Truth be told, I wasn't sure what secrets Karkaroff meant. But I did learn to stop wondering and simply accept the fact that he was a bit barmy.

"Well, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon — or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

I would've felt foolish for releasing a quick breath of laughter, had it not been for Harry's snort into his plate of goulash. Percy frowned at the two of us, but we simply smiled at one another, Dumbledore sending us a very small wink. Meanwhile, Phlegm was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to her date, who was probably too busy staring at her to hear a word she said.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course…zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like _zat_." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Her date was in such a daze, he kept missing his mouth with his fork. "Absolutely right," he said at once, quickly catching on and slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like _that_. Yeah."

I whispered my own imitation of Fleur to Adrian…except mockingly…and with a French accent. "Oh, ze Palace of Phlegm is just so mageecal. I 'ave zese seven dwarves 'oo follow me into ze bathroom and tell me I am ze faireest of zem all and take turns wiping my 'uge —"

"I invite you all to stand," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat.

Adrian ceased laughter and we all stood up as well.

Then, with a wave of Dumbledore's wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

A popular wizarding band known as the Weird Sisters, of whom I was never really a fan, now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments and Adrian extended his hand to me.

"May I have this dance?" he asked.

"I have no other choice," I teased.

"That's the spirit!"

We followed the rest of the champions and their partners out onto the brightly lit dance floor, the Weird Sisters striking up a slow, mournful tune. Adrian placed his other hand on my waist, mine resting upon his shoulder, and we began to dance.

"So what were you laughing about before?" he inquired curiously.

"You mean this doesn't remind you of anything?" I asked.

After a moment, realization struck his face. "Ah yes, the famous Malfoy Christmas Ball," he said fondly.

"Don't act as though you forgot," I smirked. "I wager this was your plan all along to redeem yourself."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he said, dipping me. "I never reveal my secrets." And with that, he brought me back up, causing me to laugh a bit.

My eyes began scanning the crowd of students who'd joined us on the dance floor, in an attempt to find a familiar face…but to no avail. I'd been hoping to see how Viktor and Hermione were, or Grigor and Ginny…or Cedric…

But as the final, quavering note from the bagpipe rang out, applause filling the hall as the music ceased, a familiar face did find me…two familiar faces, actually…just as the band struck up a new, and much faster, song.

"Mind if we cut in, Pucey?" asked Fred.

Adrian looked to me and I smiled. "It's fine with me," he assured. "I was going to sit this one out anyway."

"I'm with you on that," I told him, beginning to walk off with him. But I should've known by now that wouldn't work. Adrian waved to me with a smirk as he made his way back to the champions' table, the Weasley twins pulling me back with them.

"Don't you two have dates of your own to pester?" I asked in jest. "Why torture someone else's?"

"Not to worry, love," George insisted. "They're off dancing."

"Rather exuberantly, at that," Fred added, nodding in their direction. Sure enough, upon turning, I found two birds dancing…well…exuberantly. People were beginning to back away from them.

"Blimey, I hope they don't take someone's eye out," said George only half-jokingly.

"I do, just so long as it isn't Moody's," said Fred humorously. "Bloke's only got one good one as it is."

And then as the twins stared off at Mad-Eye Moody clunking about the dance floor, I took the opportunity to sneak off. But rather than return to the champions' table, I instead happened upon the table with Ron, Harry, and — Bloody hell, two Parvatis!

"What's with you two?" I asked Harry and Ron, both gazing sulkingly at the dance floor.

Just then, some bloke I figured was from Beauxbatons asked me to dance. "No thank you," I told him, then catching sight of Parvati — one of them, anyway — sitting on Harry's side with her arms crossed, staring hopefully at the Beauxbatons bloke. "But I wager _she_ might."

"Would you?" he asked her in, sure enough, a French accent.

"You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Parvati asked Harry who barely said a word. "Oh never mind," she snapped. "Thanks, Demetria!" And she went off with the gent.

"Oi! Earth to the world's worst dates!" I claimed Harry and Ron's attention. "What's up?" But I lost it just as quickly.

This time, I followed their gazes, tracing Ron's to be on Viktor and Hermione, who appeared to be having a great time dancing together. Next, I followed Harry's to Cedric and his date. That was where my own gaze stayed for a while. In fact, I almost didn't even notice when the song ended and Hermione took a seat in Parvati's empty chair. She was pink in the face from dancing.

"Hi," Harry and I deadpanned in unison. Ron remained silent.

"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

I couldn't help but notice Ron shoot her a withering look. " _Viktor_?" he parroted. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

Hermione looked to him with surprise. "What's up with you?" she asked.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly. "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry and I; we simply shrugged.

"Ron, what — ?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron fermently. "He's from a rival school! You — you're —" he floundered for the appropriate term. " _fraternizing with the enemy_ , that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't be stupid!" she said after a moment. "The _enemy_! Honestly — what of Demetria then?!" She then turned to me and said softly, "No offense, of course."

I simply shook my head to her indifferently, Ron choosing to ignore that comment.

"I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheek glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened — trying to get him to join _spew_ , were you?"

And though I'd looked to Harry in hopes that he might share with me what spew was, he was far too caught up in the argument.

"No, I wasn't! If you _really_ want to know, he — he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

A chorus of "awww"s went off in my head. Vik truly was a shy bloke, and he really was quite smitten with Hermione.

"Yeah, well — that's his story," said Ron nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with…He's just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — tell Demetria so she can —"

"You little prat!" I couldn't help it. The words simply came out before I could even think about it. "How dare you accuse Viktor — accuse _me_!? Because we're Karkaroff's students?! I ought to hex you into the next bloody Tournament, you miserable — !"

But before I could utter a single syllable more, a strong arm had been wrapped around my waist and another covering my mouth. They pulled me away until Ron's table was hidden by the crowd of dancing students. And once I was back on the dance floor, my capturer revealed himself… _and_ began dancing with me.

"I thought it best to save you from making a horrible mistake," said Finn with a knowing smile. "Wouldn't want one of Karkaroff's students causing a ruckus, now, would we?"

"I wasn't going to cause a ruckus," I assured.

"No, of course not," he said. "Just hex him, right?"

I smiled. "Ron's not a bad bloke, I just — He's confused."

"Well, I hope that hasn't ruined your date," he said pleasantly. "Speaking of which, how is that going?"

I turned to look back at the champions' table, but Adrian was no where in sight. "Shite," I swore.

"Not to worry, Dem," said Finn through a small chuckle. "I explained to Adrian the responsibilities of a champion at such affairs. He's off with my date."

"Well how was your date going before our dates made their own date?"

"Just peachy," he replied. "Daphne Greengrass is her name, by the way."

"Duly noted."

"I trust it's also been duly noted that you still owe someone a dance," Fred popped up again, but this time without George. "May I?" he referred to Finn.

"She's all yours," he said, handing me off. "Just have her home by midnight."

"No promises." Fred winked.

And now it was just the two of us, dancing. "So where's your better half?"

"I'd imagine he's back at the table, summoning the bollocks to ask you to dance," I couldn't tell if that was a serious answer or not. But when he spoke again, it was sincere and he wore a genuine smile. "But you ran off before I could tell you how beautiful you look tonight, Princess."

"Well thank you, Fred," I said, mirroring it. "You clean up rather nicely yourself."

But that smile quickly vanished and was replaced by his usual smirk. "Don't I, though?" he said in jest, but once again, his next words were serious. "So why Pucey?"

"Why not?" I challenged.

"You have two of Hogwarts' most debonair and eligible bachelors in the palm of your hands," he said as though it were obvious.

"I was under the impression that said bachelors already had dates, considering they're so _debonair_ and _eligible_ ," I played along.

"Well, _I_ did. George did not," clarified Fred.

"Yeah, I think he mentioned that."

"And you didn't go with him?!"

"Well then he told me he did have a date!" I defended. "And I was already going with Adrian!"

"Did you tell him that?"

"Er, I think I may have."

"Then of course he'd say he has a date!"

"Does he?!"

"Yes, of course! I wouldn't leave Georgie dateless!" Fred assured me fervently. "Honestly, what kind of brother d'you reckon I am?"

"Sorry, I'm just not really sure what you want me to say," I told him honestly.

Fred's expression softened. "You're right," he admitted.

"Right about wh — ?"

"No use crying over the wrong date," said Fred airily.

"I believe the term is spilled —"

"Trust me, Princess," he said with a sly smile, the song having just ended. "Wait right here."

And as I watched him disappear into the crowd, my gaze finally fell upon Cedric once again. Only this time, our eyes met and he smiled at me before saying something to his date and then walking toward me. I quickly met him more than halfway in order to catch up with the bird and say to her just loudly enough for only her to hear, "You should dance with Harry Potter." She looked to me with a small grin before walking off, hopefully, to Harry's table.

"Talking about me?" said Cedric, as another slow song started up again. "Because if you wanted to know whether or not I'm a good dancer —" He gently took my hand in his and placed my other one on his shoulder, his on my waist; my heart skipped again. Stupid heart.

"Well you _do_ owe me one," I reminded him.

"Looks as though that debt is being fulfilled," he said to me, mirroring my smile. "So how's your evening been?"

"Eventful," I shared. "Yours?"

"Not bad, but nothing special either," he confessed indifferently. "Don't get me wrong, Cho's a great girl…but I couldn't exactly come tonight with my first choice."

And because I wasn't entirely sure if he meant me…I made a joke. "Madame Maxime," I said decidedly; Cedric laughed.

"A bit too tall for my liking," he said. "I prefer shorter girls." And then he leaned in to me, pressing his forehead against mine.

Okay, he definitely meant _me_ , right?

"Well that's…good," I said lamely. That bloody word again…

"Yes it is."

We'd been just swaying to the music, looking into one another's eyes and smiling. But what happened next was purely on accident…at first. Someone bumped into Cedric from behind, pressing his lips against my forehead. He almost immediately pulled back, his face slightly reddening.

"I'm — That wasn't — Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, it was good." Son of a banshee!

Yet somehow, that was the right thing to say. Cedric seemed to gain confidence, a small smile re-appearing as he leaned in slowly. And I _do_ mean slowly. Finally, just before I considered closing the distance myself, someone else (or perhaps the same person, I never bothered to look) bumped into me and pushed me into Cedric, our lips finally meeting. And I wouldn't have pulled away, had it not been for the interruption which came next.

"Son of a — !"

"Easy, Georgie," Fred attempted to calm his twin, which, I turned to see was not the easiest task to accomplish.

"Get off of me!" Georgie demanded, finally pushing past his brother and striding up to me angrily. "What's going on here?!" And he wagged his index finger between Cedric and I.

"George, what is your problem?" I asked urgently, but not yelling.

"I don't have a problem! What makes you think I've got a problem?!" People were beginning to turn and stare.

"Don't you reckon you're over-reacting just a bit here, mate?" Fred came over and tried to soothe him.

" _You're_ the one who told me to come over here and — !"

"Yes, well, perhaps I was wrong," Fred continued to speak calmly. I stole a sideways glance at Cedric, who was appearing rather uncomfortable.

" _Perhaps_?!" parroted George heatedly.

"Alright, what is going on?" I demanded to know, voice raised.

"Apparently you and Pretty Boy is what's going on!" George shot back.

At this point, I hadn't dared look at whatever crowd had gathered to watch us argue, I simply didn't care. All I could focus on was how sodding ridiculous George was being. "Oh my Godric! First you're cross with me for landing myself in the hospital wing, now _this_?! What is going on with you?!"

"Don't worry about what's going on with me!"

"Then don't worry about how I live my life and keep your nose out of my sodding business!"

That was the second Weasley of the night I'd yelled at, and that was two Weasleys too many. It wasn't until I took off through the crowd that I'd actually noticed the people who'd been staring. And, surprisingly, it wasn't many (at least not as many as I'd assumed) but I did easily pick out Ron, Harry, and Percy to be three of those who had been watching. Regardless, I cut my way through, even accidentally breaking up some dancing couples on the way, but I needed to get out and get some air. I was suddenly finding this dress to be a bit of a hassle to stride through a crowd in, not to mention the heels. Oh, for the love of Merlin, don't even get me started on the heels…three inches of pure hell.

"Who does he think he is!" I spoke softly but furiously to myself as I exited the Great Hall. "Constantly getting angry with me…I haven't done a bloody thing wrong!"

I could see through the front doors in the entrance hall, the fluttering fairy lights of the rose garden and decided to make my way toward them. The lights winked and twinkled as I came down the front steps, where I found myself surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. My ears could detect splashing water, which I assumed was a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. I set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but it wasn't long before I'd heard an unmistakably familiar voice…two, at that.

"…don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."

"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it —"

"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner, Snape's wand out and blasting rosebushes apart, his expression ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!" as a boy went rushing after her. "And ten points from Gryffindor, Harris!" he added, catching sight of me on the path ahead.

"But I don't even —"

"That hardly matters!" he continued to snarl. "What're you doing out here?"

Karkaroff was appearing rather discomposed to see me standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, winding it around his finger.

"Just out for a stroll, Snape," was my cheeky response.

"That's _Professor_ Snape to you, Harris," he said shortly.

"As I _tried_ to tell you before, I don't even attend this school," I casually reminded him. "You're not a professor of mine, Sev."

He and Karkaroff drew closer. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Harris," Snape warned.

"Fine, but just one." I smirked, Snape appearing unamused and brushed past me, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape without so much as a glance at me. And while I was rather curious of what such a pair could have been discussing, I'd given up on guessing rather quickly, my brain still occupied with what had just occured with George…and Cedric, actually.

I shouldn't have been associating with any of them to begin with. In fact, the only ones suitable to spend time with were the ones I'd been spending the _least_ amount of time with. I could only imagine how disappointed Grandad would be if he knew…or my parents. What would they think? Their only child — a disappointment, a failure. They were probably turning in their graves right then and there. The very thought sent me over the edge. I hardly knew my parents and yet, I only longed to make them proud. But there was always a small part of me that hoped _maybe_ …they would just want whatever made me happy. Sometimes I wanted to know, but for the most part, I just wanted to remain ignorant so I could keep that hope alive.

But two things I knew for certain — Grandad would never approve if he found out who I'd been socializing with…and I couldn't stay any longer. Tournament or not, I couldn't allow these — dare I say — _friends_ I made to grow any more attached to me, nor I to them. I wouldn't be difficult to replace anyway, I'm sure Karkaroff would be overjoyed to throw Viktor in. And come morning, he'd have his chance.

Following the path I'd taken to enter the rose garden, I made my way out, stopping just before the Great Hall entrance. The Weird Sisters had struck up another slow song and I resisted the urge to peer in and see who Cedric was dancing with, if anyone at all. But just as I was about to succumb, two redheads dashed out in the direction I was headed for the ship. It was George and Ron, probably on their way to find me and apologize. And then I found myself fighting a new urge — one to run over to them and embrace them, tell them it was okay. But it wasn't. I couldn't. And I couldn't go back to the ship either. I had to leave now, and there was only one way to do it.

 _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

I closed my eyes trying to calm myself, trying to focus on Harris Manor. That was just about the extent of my knowledge on Apparition considering it was all my grandad had told me, insisting I should wait until my legal license at seventeen to Apparate. But I still wasn't going anywhere. I opened my eyes to make sure, but the music from the ball was still pounding in my ears. It was then that I realized Hogwarts must've had the very same Anti-Disapparation Jinx which Durmstrang possessed. A right shame too, although it probably would've saved me an undoubted and rather inevitable splinch.

So then how was I to leave?

"Troubled, Miss Harris?" Dumbledore had just stepped out of the Great Hall, eyes twinkling as they always seemed to from behind those half-moon spectacles. "I do hope tonight's festivities have measured up to the many Malfoy Christmas Balls I'm sure you have attended."

"Tonight was better than any of them," I told him honestly.

"But you no longer wish to partake?" he asked, tone laced with curiosity.

"My heart's just not in it, Professor." And that, too, was honest.

"Then perhaps your heart is elsewhere," he said wisely, looking away from me and in the direction of what I could only imagine was the ship.

"Perhaps," I agreed. And then I seized the oppertunity. "It just doesn't feel the same. I've always gone home for Christmas."

"I can only imagine the pleasures of routine and tradition being lost to me," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Especially being involved in such a tournament, you must be in need of it more than you know."

"I s'pose so." Maybe he was right about that.

Dumbledore continued to peer down at me from behind his half-moon spectacles, blue eyes twinkling in thought. "I'm sure a small visit wouldn't hurt."

"D'you mean that, sir?" I perked up my body, my eyes, as though an electric shock had been surged throughout it. This was the response I'd been hoping to get. "But how would I?"

"Come with me, Demetria," he said, leading me down the familiar path to his office.

I'd only been in it once before, and really just from a distance when I eavesdropped on the conversation held between Dumbledore and Karkaroff. But it was a bit too dark now to see much of anything, although Dumbledore still seemed to know his way around quite well. I followed directly behind and make sure not to bump into anything. From what I was able to make out in the darkness, items were all rather antique. But my eyes had to adjust again, once Dumbledore had thrown something ahead of us and stepped aside. The Floo Powder caused a glow from the emerald green flames now dancing in the fireplace before me. I looked eagerly to Dumbledore who simply gave me a smile and nodded. I stepped into the heatless fire.

"Harris Manor," I declared, and was gone...with no intentions of coming back.


	10. Chapter 9: One of Them

_**Chapter Nine**_

 _One of Them_

:.:.:

When the green flames subsided and I stepped out from the fireplace, I immediately knew where I stood. The room in Harris Manor was dark, but a pale moon's glow spilled in and lit it just enough for me to find my way out. As I made my way down the hall, I detected looming voices. Approaching the drawing room I heard them clearly, just behind the wall.

"Well where is the rat now?" I heard Dolohov demand to know. "And who left him in charge of the Dark Lord?!"

"Calm yourself, Antonin," came Malfoy's smooth voice. "The Mark is darkening...burning, is it not? He must be doing _something_ right."

"For once."

"Malfoy's right," said Grandad; my heart sank. For a moment, I'd forgotten he was a part of them. "The Dark Lord is growing stronger every day."

I'd forgotten _I_ was to be a part of them. But that was, after all, the entire reason I came home. So before their meeting could proceed any further, I revealed myself from behind the wall and stepped through the threshold. All eyes turned to me, Death Eaters seated all around the room.

"Demetria," greeted Turner, sounding rather pleased to see me. I always had a feeling he was smitten with me.

They all looked to me with polite smiles, except Grandad who simply appeared surprised.

"Sweetheart, what're you doing home?" He seemed apprehensive.

But before I could even concoct an excuse, Malfoy intervened. "I'm sure Karkaroff let something slip. I'm just surprised you didn't bring Draco."

Grandad stood up from the table and made his way over to me where I still stood just past the threshold. "It's really not necessary for you to attend this meeting, Demetria," he told me before realizing something. "How did you get here?"

"Dumbledore said it would be good for me to spend some time at home for a while." It was technically true.

"Well when d'you think you'll be going back?" His voice was quiet yet urgent.

"I'm not," I told him.

He still looked worried. Why was he so worried? "What about...the tournament?"

"The tournament doesn't matter to me," I said before walking past him and over to the table. "This is what matters to me."

Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. But all those seated at the table looked to me with fondness and respect; all but Malfoy. His expression, much like Grandad's when he came back over, was unreadable.

"This calls for a celebration," declared Nigel Mulciber; his fist pounded the table in excitement.

"This calls for the Mark," Dolohov suggested, smirking.

I wondered then if my face spilled out anything I was feeling inside. It was as though my heart froze, my stomach dropped, a giant weight fell upon my shoulders and every breath I inhaled for wasn't enough. To bear the Dark Mark...

"That's preposterous," affirmed Grandad at once. "She's just a young girl, and at school someone is bound to see —"

"You heard her, she isn't going back," Dolohov reminded.

"She's no hermit, she'll be out and about enough for someone to catch a glimpse," Grandad continued to oppose.

"She may go back to school," Malfoy added airily, though he almost looked as on-edge as Grandad.

"Well what does _she_ have to say about this?" asked Dolohov, all eyes in the room focusing on me.

I must've managed to keep calm because I wasn't receiving any odd or concerned looks. However, I wished the same could've been said for my interior. What was I to do? I had just committed myself to the cause in front of them all. How would it look if I rejected the Mark? I couldn't...but I didn't want it either! But there _was_ a third option. Luckily, I was exhausted enough already to pull it off.

–

When I 'came back to', Grandad was still seated at the side of my bed.

"W-what happened?" I asked, feigning confusion.

"You passed out," he said, placing a hand on my forehead. "Not to worry though, I'm sure you were simply overwhelmed. You've had a long night and it was late." He removed his hand.

"What time is it now?" I was now becoming genuinely groggy.

"Nearly three in the morning," he replied. I guess I really had dozed off. "Get some sleep, sweetheart."

But as he rose from my bed, I spoke again. "Why didn't you want me to have it?"

The silence seemed louder then, before he answered. "Tozi zhivot ne e za vas." _**(This life is not for you)**_ And that was when I knew we weren't alone. My eyes swept the room and found no one, but when they returned back to my Grandad's, he shifted his toward my door. Probably Turner or someone lurking outside, maybe to ensure I was alright.

"Mislekh, che iskash tova za men." I exchanged. _**(I thought you wanted this for me)**_

Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes begin to glitter with tears. "Nikoga za vas," he said softly. _**(Never for you)**_

"No prez vsichkite tezi godini —" _**(But all these years)**_

He stopped me, placing his hand on the side of my face, and repeated " _Nikoga_ za vas," Then he stood up — "Shte govorim poveche, kogato tova e bezopasno." — and made his way to the door. "Goodnight." _**(We'll talk more when it is safe)**_

 __"Goodnight," I returned. I then heard Grandad begin to converse with whoever stood outside my door just before he shut it.

His words demanded to be heard inside my head no matter how much I tried to shut them out. _This life is not for you. Never for you. We'll talk more when it is safe._

Not for you.

Never.

When it is safe.

Not.

Never.

Safe.

Safe...

...safe...

:.:.:

Was I happy with how the Yule Ball ended with Demetria? Obviously not. But was I thrilled to see her and Cedric... Well, you know. No! But did that mean I wished to no longer see her face around Hogwarts? Certainly not. But that was what happened...

I'd borrowed Pigwidgeon from Ron nearly every day to owl her, even voiced my concern to Fred and Lee, but they always suggested she simply went home for the rest of the holiday. And as much as I wanted to believe it, how could it've been true? I asked Finn, Ginny, Hermione, Viktor, Grigor, even Malfoy...even Cedric! None had heard from her since the ball. And on the first day classes were scheduled to resume, she was still no where to be found.

"All of her things are still in the cabin," Finn told me that evening on the way to dinner. "Maybe she just wanted an extra day off, mate."

"You don't reckon it's cause of me, d'you?" What if it was my fault she didn't want to come back? Merlin's beard...I wish she would let me apologize.

Finn looked as though he might say something comforting, but realization flickered and his face fell. That was all the response I needed.

Upon entering the Great Hall, I made a bee-line for the staff table in an effort to find Dumbledore. He was already seated at the head and eating.

"Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you," I said as I approached him. He looked up from his plate with nothing but a smile twinkling in his eyes.

"Not a bother at all, Mr. Weasley," he assured. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"It's Demetria," I said at once. "She left unannounced the night of the Yule Ball and still isn't back."

"My apologies, Mr. Weasley, but I gave Miss Harris the opportunity to return home for the holiday," shared Dumbledore with genuine sympathy. "She wasn't feeling at all herself."

"Then wouldn't she be back by now?" I asked without expecting an answer, and when his eyes scanned the hall behind me, I spoke again. "She hasn't kept in touch with anyone... Professor, we got into a bit of a row the night she left...I'm afraid _I'm_ the reason she hasn't returned."

Dumbledore's eyes returned to mine.

"I've owled her every day and she never responded. You don't reckon something's happened, d'you?"

After a long moment, he stood silently and made his way around the long staff table to stand before me. "Come with me," he instructed, commencing his way toward the exit. "I have a far more effective method of communication."

We came to the corridor holding the entrance to the castle that Durmstrang and Beuxbatons students took. Glancing out into the blanket of snow which covered the grounds, I saw not one small footprint among the large ones coming from the ship. A pang of guilt stabbed at me once again.

"Tell me, Mr. Weasley, have you ever been successful in casting a Patronus?" Dumbledore looked to me with curiosity, his wand at the ready.

I retrieved mine from my back pocket. "No, sir," I admitted. "But I'm a quick learner."

"Very good, then," Dumbledore smiled. "I take it you are aware of what a Patronus is, yes?"

"Well yes but, er, how is that going to help me?"

"Patience, Mr. Weasley." But he spoke calmly, his smile remaining. And then at once, a stream of silver-white light had flowed from the wand, quickly shaping itself into a white, translucent Phoenix. Dumbledore then lowered his wand, the silver thread between it and the Phoenix disappearing then. He stepped closer to it and whispered something to it. The Phoenix then turned to me and opened its beak, Dumbledore's voice emitting from it.

"They can also relay messages," it said; and then it was gone just as quickly.

I looked to the Headmaster in relative awe. "How did you...?"

"First, you must...think of a memory," he began simply.

"A memory, sir?"

"Yes, but not just any," he clarrified. "Think of the happiest you can ever remember being, and focus on it. Allow it to fill you up until you feel that happiness once again now. And then, recite the incantation... _Expecto Patronum_."

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," I repeated to ensure I heard correctly.

"Precisely."

I nodded and proceeded to close my eyes. The happiest I'd ever been? My initial thought was perhaps a prank with Fred, but racking through my mind, there weren't any that made me _truly_ happy. So I decided on my first prank I'd ever pulled. The first time I'd walked into Zonko's. When Fred and I decided to open up our own joke shop.

And once I had it, I opened my eyes, wand at the ready, and incanted, " _Expecto Patronum!_ "

A faint, vapor of smoke puffed out from my wand, but that was all.

"Happier," suggested Dumbledore airily.

Happier than pranks... Quidditch? Nah, not enough... What about Quidditch with Fred and Ron back at the Burrow? The Burrow! Being home with them and Ginny, Mum and Dad, Bill and Charlie when they're home, and even Percy... When Harry comes to stay and, sure, Hermione too! I imagined myself back at the Burrow with everyone sitting and eating together, laughing and telling stories. For a moment, I felt as though I was actually there.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

At first, I thought it was simply another puff of smoke. But it transformed itself into a silvery, flowy...coyote. It wasn't at all like the Phoenix which had appeared almost solid, glowing white. My coyote was wispy, like an imaginative cloud of smoke. And I noticed, as soon as I grew disgruntled, it vanished.

"Very well done, Mr. Weasley," praised Dumbledore. "A Patronus is not the easiest task to accomplish, and you struggled far less than most wizards at their first go."

"It wasn't nearly as good as yours, sir," I confessed, almost sheepishly.

"Most first attempts are not," he explained. "But it will be enough to deliver a message. Now then, conjure it again."

I took a moment to recreate the scene at the Burrow in my head again. But this time, there was an addition. Perhaps because I now remembered I would be sending the message to her, I thought of Demetria; placed her in the Burrow. She sat next to me...close. I put my arm around her...she smiled.

" _Expecto Patronum!_ "

There before me, stood a white coyote extending from my wand. Perfectly formed and glowing, it looked expectantly toward me and I looked to Dumbledore, smiling proudly.

"To Demetria Harris," he began for me.

Approaching the coyote, I took a knee and brought myself closer to its face. "To Demetria Harris," I parroted in a whisper. "I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."

The moment I stood up, my coyote had taken off. I watched it run off into the snow and leave no footprints behind, until it came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and disappeared.

"Will it be alright?" I asked curiously.

"Quite, Patronuses aren't like real animals," replied Dumbledore. "They're spirits. Though speaking of, I must say I wasn't expecting a coyote for you, Mr. Weasley."

"What then, a hyena perhaps?" I asked in jest.

"Certainly not," Dumbledore smiled. "Although...the coyote is more than a trickster. They tend to symbolize wisdom...energy...family orientation... Perhaps it is a nice fit for you."

"Thank you, Professor."

I was still in a mild state of shock that the difference between a wispy Patronus and a full-fledged one...was Demetria.

:.:.:

 _I wonder if Mum ever had to do this..._

I stood outside a popular Muggle bar and club in London by the name of Lost Angel. From the front window, I could barely see a thing on the inside — it was dimly lit and glowing blue. Those under 18 were not admitted, so I was given something Grandad said the Muggles called a 'fake I.D.' in order to get in. It was a little plastic card with my picture and fake information on it, which I retrieved from a small black wristlet I had secured around my wrist. The wristlet, much like my outfit, was not my decision. I was wearing a skin tight, short, black dress and about 6 bloody inches of black heels. All I had to warm me against the frigid January air was a small, red coat...well, and tights but they were lacey... Even the red lipstick which coated my lips was not my idea, though the rest of my makeup was. Ever since the Yule Ball, I began wearing eye makeup.

Ugh, the Yule Ball...

 _No, don't think about that now,_ I told myself. _Just focus. Remember why you're here._

And perhaps it was because I was beginning to spend far too much time with the Death Eaters constantly at my house, but I didn't exactly feel bad for what I was about to do. Then again, maybe I truly was cut out for this life. But Grandad didn't want it for me...I still never got the chance to talk to him about that...

"It looks much better from inside," came a voice. I turned to see it was the gentleman in all black standing at the door. He smiled and opened it for me. Guess I didn't need the I.D. "Go on in, love."

Love. I thought of George.

 _Will you stop?_ I tried telling myself again.

And with that, I immediately shook the thought out of my mind, smiled at the man, and walked in. As soon as I did, loud music consumed my ears and I swore I could feel it in my heartbeat. I made a bee-line for the bar and took a seat; I wasn't sitting alone for long.

The bartender came over and placed a glass of amber liquid before me. "Compliments of that gentleman, over there," he said, indicating to the rather young looking man on the other side of the bar. Not as young as I, certainly, but he couldn't have been anything older than 20, if that. And he was incredibly handsome.

The bloke smiled, and when I returned it, he got up and made his way over. I took a sip of the amber liquid before he did, just in case it was a taste I had to get used to. It wasn't _all_ that bad, but it was very sweet...and caused a burning sensation in my chest for a moment. Luckily, I'd recovered by the time the bloke occupied the seat next to me.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you in here before," he said, smiling charmingly.

"I take it you're a regular, then?" I inquired.

"I wouldn't say _that_ —"

"Got you a refill on _the_ Jack Gelling, mate," said the bartender, sliding a tall beverage in front of the bloke, Jack.

I looked to him with a smirk.

"Alright so _perhaps_ I am," he admitted with a small laugh. "But it's close by campus...sort of. D'you go to school around here?"

 _He's still in school? Do Muggles ever get out?_

"No, I'm just here on holiday," I told him. Technically true.

"D'you have a place to stay?" he asked, still smiling.

 _Ugh, what a little prick_ , ran through my mind. _Now I really don't feel bad at all for what I'm doing_. But just like that, my feelings changed and a wave of guilt washed over me.

"Sorry, er, that was creepy," he apologized, hand wrapping around the back of his neck. "I just meant — family out here?"

"I wouldn't say _that_ ," he laughed at my use of his line. "I live over in Wiltshire, but I go to school in Norway."

"Norway?" he repeated incredulously. "Bloody hell, what for?"

"Adventure." I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink.

Jack appeared impressed. "So d'you speak any Norwegian?"

"Well, yes, but I'm far more fluent in Bulgarian," I told him.

His smile remained in tact, but he began shaking his head.

"What?" I inquired, giggling.

"You can't be _that_ good," he said simply. "This is all too good to be true. You're like no one I've ever met before."

If he thought all of that was impressive, I could only imagine his reaction if he saw me use magic.

"It's all true," I insisted.

"Prove it," he challenged. "Say something in Bulgarian."

"Moeto ime e Demetria," I said effortlessly.

"Sorry, _Demetria_ , but I'm afraid anyone could master 'My name is' in any language," he said in jest.

"You didn't let me finish." I smirked; he gave me an indication to continue.

"Moeto ime e Demetria. Az sŭm veshtitsa. Az otivam da vi otvede do kŭshtata mi. Mozhete da umra tam. Tolkova sŭzhalyavam." _**(My name is Demetria. I'm a witch. I'm going to take you to my house. You may die there. I'm so sorry)**_

Jack looked to me in awe. When he composed himself, he said, "Well you could've just made all of that up and —"

"Oh, shut up," I teased, slapping his arm; he laughed. "It was all _real_ Bulgarian."

"So what'd you say?" he inquired.

"That I think you're very sweet and handsome, and I'd like for you to come back to my house," I coolly said.

Jack appeared a bit surprised at first, but collected himself and simply gave me the same charming smile as when he first came over. "I'd love to."

Muggle transportation was _so_ inconvenient, but that's what we had to take. Jack got us something called a taxi, a little black box of a car, and this unfortunately left us with quite a period of talking time. And once I found myself starting to enjoy his company, I almost wished I'd picked up someone less interested in talking, if you know what I mean. So I made the first move, just with a simple peck on the cheek. But it caused him to stop mid-sentence and turn to face me with a sly grin. I forced a giggle and looked away. Next thing I knew, his hand had brought my face back and our lips met. That was pretty much how it stayed for the remainder of the drive.

We arrived in front of Harris Manor, Jack paying the driver and then stepping out of the taxi with me.

"What, this is it?" he teased.

"You're an arse," I returned in jest. The taxi drove off and I began walking toward the house, Jack following behind.

"Speaking of arse...ladies first has it's advantages." He then proceeded to whistle and I turned back to look at him smirking.

"Alright, let's go," I said, though still smiling, ushering him along until he walked beside me. When we reached the front door, I didn't even have to unlock it. I simply turned the doorknob and stepped inside, shutting the door behind Jack.

"D'you always leave it unlocked?" he asked with a bit of a laugh.

"No, but I'm sure my grandad was expecting me." My voice seemed quiet then. I'd nearly forgotten.

"Er, your grandad's home?" Jack then seemed rather embarrassed.

"No," I told him simply.

He looked to me with confusion, but all I had to do to change that was come close and lock my arms around his neck. Jack then closed the small bridge between us and began kissing me again. I started backing up down the hall leading to the drawing room, and though it was dark, I knew my way.

"Relax," Jack advised in reference to how on edge I was. I couldn't help it, I was growing worried about what was about to happen. But after a moment, it didn't seem like it ever would. "You said no one was home."

"Yeah." I smiled and decided to pretend it was true. After all, it certainly seemed that way.

So I relaxed, and allowed myself to enjoy the next time Jack's lips found mine. I finally was able to focus on it, and I could taste the mixing of the liquors on our tongues. I could hear him feeling around for furniture and finally found the couch, lowering me on to it. But as soon as I could feel his body on top of mine, the feeling vanished. I opened my eyes to find the lights flicked on, Death Eaters now entering the room and one of them holding Jack who was struggling to break free. It was Turner, in a bit of a jealous rage, no doubt. I watched Grandad walk in last; he couldn't even meet my eyes.

"Well done, Demetria," said Dolohov admiringly.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at Jack. I stood up from the couch and faced the other way.

"What is this?" asked Jack. "Demetria, what's going on? Is this some sort of gang?"

" _Crucio!_ " cried Dolohov, wand pointed at Jack who was released by Turner and fell to the floor; he cried out in agony. It was only then that I looked at him. "Silence, you filthy Mudblood!"

"De-Deme — Help!" He continued to writhe on the ground in pain, twisting and squirming like a worm. A helpless worm...

"Didn't you hear him?!" Mulciber joined in then. " _Crucio!_ Bite your tongue, Mudblood!"

I could only imagine such a pain. It was almost as though I could feel it inside myself as I watched it surge throughout Jack once again. This time I could hear tears, and then I saw them when his eyes met my own. I couldn't look away. As much as I didn't want to watch him as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again, I physically couldn't move my gaze from where he held it. Jack looked straight at me and screamed. I turned my back to him.

"Oi, what's the matter with this one?" came Thorfinn Rowle. "She didn't even flinch when she watched the World Cup fall to shambles!"

"She and Draco were running away," Malfoy defended. "I told them to."

"They're to be Death Eaters, Lucius!"

"They're only children!" cried out Grandad.

"You stay out of this, old man!" shouted Lucas Avery before I heard a crash.

Whipping around, I saw Grandad being thrown across the room into the bookshelf just with a flick of Avery's wand. I immediately retrieved mine from down the back of my dress, secured under my bra hook, and aimed for Avery. But before I could even think to cast a spell, my wand was taken by Dolohov using his own.

"The Dark Lord may not question your loyalty, but _I_ do!" announced Avery, wand still drawn toward Grandad.

"ENOUGH!" Dolohov shouted. Everyone fell silent and still...everyone except Jack. He remained on the floor, whimpering and wincing. Dolohov returned my wand to me and stood behind me, hands on my shoulders. "Do it," he whispered in my ear. "Make him beg for his life." And in the moment I held Jack's gaze once again, I began convincing myself to do it...

It was just a Muggle...

 _I wonder if Mum ever had to do this._

I didn't even know the bloke.

 _The Order of the Phoenix wiped out quite a bit of Death Eaters. Some got off with serving life in Azkaban. Your parents...they weren't so lucky._

I had to make my parents proud.

 _You look just your mother, you know. But your father is definitely in there as well._

And my grandfather...

 _This life is not for you._

But how could I?

 _Dobby thinks you would make a wonderful Gryffindor, Miss Demetria!_

"Do it now."

 _I mean you've got to do what you want, it's your life after all._

My eyes couldn't leave Jack's.

 _You've just got to be…true to yourself. And don't be afraid to let that heart of yours decide, Princess._

" _Crucio!_ " I casted it...but not on Jack.

Dolohov sunk to the ground, releasing a brief cry of suffering, but that was it. I'd forgotten all about the initiation to become a Death Eater...

"Why, you little — !" Dolohov grabbed my ankle from the ground and pulled me down before I could run away. Though I don't see how I would've managed it; I was still wearing 6 inch heels.

But before plummeting to the ground, I watched Grandad attempt to rise up and defend me, but Dolohov was already on his feet. He made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Grandad's chest and he fell back to the floor, seemingly lifeless.

"Grandad!" I cried out, strained.

"Dear old Grandad's just checked out for a bit, love; nothing to worry about," came Mulciber cynically; others chuckled, though not all. Not Malfoy or Turner...and Dolohov was still looking rather furious.

"Oh, Antonin, do lighten up," Mulciber continued to smirk. "Demetria's just asking for the proper initiation."

Initiation to become a Death Eater requires more than the Dark Mark branded on your arm. I've seen that, and it seemed painful enough. But the other half...I've seen that too. It was Turner, actually, about two years ago, when I was 12 and he was 18, I watched him writhe in the pain of the Cruciatus Curse until he couldn't scream anymore and they say your body grows accustomed to it. I've also seen, however, some that never made it to that stage and simply went insane. I've seen one person die.

"Harris, you little imp." Dolohov began mirroring Mulciber's sly grin then.

"She's too young, she'll die!" Malfoy interjected, astonished that they would even suggest such a thing.

"Nonsense, she'll be fine!" insisted Avery. "Benjamin was around her age...and size!" He indicated over to Turner, others chuckling. "He made it out just fine."

"What d'you say, Demetria?" asked Dolohov.

I had gotten back on to my feet during their ickle exchange. "I say —"

" _Crucio!_ "

Before I could even _think_ to refuse, I was screaming. No, not screaming, it couldn't've been. It was so strained and yet ear-piercing. I'd never heard myself sound like this. I'd never been in so much pain before. How could I have watched Jack endure this? How was _I_ enduring this? I screamed until I didn't even realize I was any longer, I grew so numb to it...but not to the pain. No, that remained as strong as ever. Like a white hot burning sensation throughout my body, building even behind my eyes. I could feel tears bubbling, but I refused to let Dolohov — or any of them, in fact — see me cry. And once the curse had lifted for a moment and I realized I was still screaming, I stopped and kept my mouth shut...because he hit me with it again.

It felt as though my bones were breaking and then growing back over and over. It felt as though my organs were continuously being blown up like fireworks. The blood in my veins boiled. My body writhed on the ground. I thought I was contorting it in some strange way, but that was unlikely. At one point, I was sure my torso had snapped in two, but I still never screamed. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheeks to prevent it from happening, and I was fairly certain my mouth was bleeding at that point.

The curse lifted once again, but this time it wasn't Dolohov's decision. Malfoy had snatched his wand from his grip, and the two began arguing. I honestly could barely hear a thing, my own screams were still ringing in my ears. I seized the opportunity to crawl off behind the couch. I knew it wouldn't do me any good to leave, the house was only so big, after all. So I just leaned my head up against the sofa and gripped at my rib cage. The pain still lingered.

Suddenly, a porcelain white...spirit...of an animal stood before me. It must've been a wolf or a coyote... It leaned in close to me, opened its mouth, and just when I thought I was delirious from the pain, I heard something that instantly brought me back — George Weasley.

"I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."

The words...his voice...it came from this animal.

"George Weasley," I said admiringly in a hoarse whisper. My face did its best to smile.

At the mention of his name, the spirit leaned its ear to me. But I was suddenly pulled from the illusion that must've been, because someone had casted the Cruciatus Curse on me through the couch. This time I couldn't hold back; it caught me off guard and I released another cry of pain. Glass bones shattered...again. I could feel everything inside of me breaking, everything on the outside burning.

"Stop it!" I couldn't stand it any longer, I was so weak that I felt ill. "Please stop! Make it stop!"

"Antonin!" cried out Turner. "Enough!"

Dolohov ceased and I thanked Merlin I was still hidden because I certainly didn't want any of them to see what happened next. As silently as I could...I vomited.

"You know she isn't ready," said Turner quietly yet menacingly. "You tortured your Muggle, leave her out of it. She's fourteen for Merlin's sake."

"Always a buzzkill, eh, Benjy?" said Avery; he saw his way out, as did the rest.

"What a wanker," Mulciber agreed upon his exit.

Malfoy stayed for a moment, he and Turner moving Grandad — still unconscious — to the couch. He then looked to me with remorse and nodded to Turner before he departed as well.

Turner — er, Benjamin — draped his jacket around my shoulders, and I just realized I was shivering. I wasn't really cold...just in shock, I reckon. My eyes scanned the room for the coyote, but it was no where to be found. I s'posed it wasn't real, after all. My eyes, instead, found another still body on the floor. I rushed over and kneeled beside Jack.

I couldn't even find my voice, perhaps from the curse or even the tears that threatened to spill over and the lump in my throat. But I didn't even have to say a word, Benjamin was shaking his head. He appeared as genuinely sad as I did...perhaps he didn't want this life for himself either.

I found my voice then. "My fault."

"Absolutely not," Benjamin stated decisively. "And don't you ever think that."

All I could do was nod.

"We can...figure out what to, er, do with him in the morning, alright?" said Benjamin.

"Jack Gelling," I told him, standing up. "That was his name."

He nodded. "We can find his family."

And then I knew for a fact that Benjamin wasn't like the others, he didn't want this life. It chose him like it chose me. And I also realized he wasn't 'smitten with me', he was looking out for me...because he knew I was like him.

"D'you...er... Are you leaving?" I asked him somewhat sheepishly.

He looked toward the door that the other Death Eaters had vanished behind, shaking his head. "No, I'll stay."

I motioned for him to follow me as I began making my way for the staircase. "Reckon they'll come back?"

"Doubt it," Benjamin told me, following behind. "But you never really know with Dolohov."

The thought of waking up in the middle of the night to the breaking of my bones again... I lost my balance and nearly fell backwards off the stairs. Benjamin put his hand to my back to ensure I didn't.

"You should probably get out of those shoes," he suggested, amused.

I reached the top of the staircase and turned to face him. "Yeah," I agreed, not knowing what else to say. The thought still remained vivid in my mind. "Um, my grandad's room is...right there." I pointed to the white double doors.

"I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight," Benjamin said darkly before offering a small smile. "But thank you."

I nodded and opened the door to my own room — my father's old bedroom. I'd left nearly every poster up from when he occupied it, most were even of him as a Tutshill Tornado. My favorite one hung above my bed: my father clutched the Quidditch World Cup from up on his broom, zoomed down to the ground where my mother waited for him, and kissed her. How could they have wanted this life? How could they have wanted it for me? I was beginning to think no one really _wanted_ it, it was just the life chosen for them.

Finally kicking off those bloody heels, the skin-tight dress was next to go. But unfortunately, I'd forgotten there was a zipper in the back. Suddenly I wished Benjamin _was_ actually a bit smitten with me, then perhaps it would've have been such an uncomfortable request. But regardless, I wanted to get out of the damn thing, so I made my way over to the double doors and knocked before opening one slightly.

"Come in, Demetria," said Benjamin's voice from the other side. I let myself in to find his back to me, gazing out the large, bay window before him. "Scared, already?" He seemed genuinely concerned, not just poking fun at me.

"Scared to ask a favor of you, actually," I admitted, walking over to him.

Benjamin pivoted, concern now seen etched upon his face. "What is it?"

I turned my back to him in response, collecting my hair and placing it all in front of one shoulder. I could hear him release a small breath of laughter. He didn't say a word, but I could feel the dress loosening as he brought the zipper down.

Just then, there came a loud thud from downstairs. My heart stopped, entire body frozen as though I were trapped in the Full Body-Bind Curse. It must've been Dolohov, back to finish what he'd started. I looked to Benjamin, he was already moving toward the door, wand out in front of him.

"Stay here," he advised, waiting for my nod of agreement before disappearing behind the door.

I waited a moment before running after him, though stopping at the top of the staircase. It was pitch black downstairs...and my wand was still somewhere in the drawing room. I heard someone say my name rather softly, a good distance away, and then I saw a jet of scarlet light shot out at the bottom of the stairs.

"Demetria?!" I knew that voice...

"Who the sodding hell are you?!" Benjamin called back.

"Are you the one who hurt her?!"

Benjamin didn't even have the chance to answer, because our house guest could be heard running and slamming into him. That was when I rushed down the stairs and tried my best to avoid being smacked into, feeling my way along the walls in order to find — the room was suddenly illuminated — the light.

"Demetria, I told you to stay upstairs," Benjamin scolded, though more gravely than angry, the fighting having come to a halt.

I wasn't even looking at him though, instead my eyes were soaring in the blue skies of nonother than George Weasley's.

"George, what're you doing here?" I asked him, shocked.

"You know this bloke?" Benjamin inquired.

But George ignored everything and tugged at Benjamin's collar. "I _said_ , 'are you the one who hurt her'?!"

"He didn't hurt me!" I defended. George's eyes finally fell upon me, and they widened as soon as he realized what I was wearing. But after I self-consciously went to hold the back of my dress closed, that was when fire was back in George's eyes.

"Looks like he was about to!"

"What're you on about?" challenged Benjamin.

"Oh please, don't act so coy!" George shouted. "I hear Demetria screaming, see her dress nearly off — You filthy, miserable, prick!"

He swung his arm to punch Benjamin, but I leapt in to push it off course before it could do any damage.

"George, wait, how did you hear me screaming?" I asked him, but he was in no mood for questioning.

"A nice, forceful shag?" George continued to shout in Benjamin's face who was now trying to keep his temper. "Is that how you get your kicks?!"

"Someone used the Cruciatus Curse on her. Not. Me. Someone else who is no longer here," Benjamin explained as calmly as he could manage.

I could see George's expression softening then. "Who was it?"

"Antonin Dolohov," Benjamin was having a much easier time composing himself then. "He's a Death Eater."

"I know," was all George said for a moment, looking at me as though I'd just died and come back. "Why was he here?"

"George, how did you hear me scream?" I asked again.

"The coyote you saw was my Patronus; Dumbledore taught me how to conjure it and send messages with it. You must've said my name and sent me the reply back...I heard you screaming and begged Dumbledore to help me find you, and so I came in through your fireplace," was his quick reply. Literally, he rushed it all out in one breath. "Would've been here sooner if I didn't have to change into Muggle clothes... Now, why was a Death Eater here?"

Benjamin looked to me. Now was my chance. I could finally let the secret out and George would know why I couldn't be his friend. Hell, I'm sure he wouldn't even _want_ to be my friend if he found out. But then I realized that I didn't have to do this to myself. George never had to know.

"I dunno, he just...showed up," I lied effortlessly.

"Why would he do that?" inquired George. "You can't be Muggle-born, you go to Durmstrang." It was true that our school did not admit Muggle-borns, I just wasn't aware that it was such common knowledge.

"I'm not, I'm pure-blood," I explained. "But that's exactly why he was here. Ever since the Dark Mark appeared at the World Cup, they've been trying to recruit new followers...and they tried to take my grandad."

George looked to me with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry," he told me, before his eyes shifted to Benjamin, suspicion taking place in them. "Then who's he?"

" _He_ is Benjamin Turner," he introduced himself. "Friend of the family."

"Just a friend?" George pressed.

"Yes," both Benjamin and I said in unison.

George continued to look at my rather disorderly attire. Even with my hand still holding the dress closed, I felt exposed.

"Well...I'll just be upstairs...changing," I announced, practically running up my stairs. I'd made it about half way before George's voice sounded again.

"Did you leave because of me?"

I took a moment to think up an excuse before I turned around to face him. "No," I told him. "I came home to be with my grandad. Things were getting to be a bit hectic, what with the tournament and...you getting angry with me over everything."

George hung his head. "Sorry about that... Cedric's been asking about you, by the way," he said grudgingly; my heart nearly skipped a beat at the very mention of his name. George picked his head back up and looked at me. "You're coming back, aren't you?"

I looked to Benjamin before I replied, his brown eyes spilling out warmth and his expression reading nothing but understanding. "Yes, I'm coming back," I said finally.

A genuine smile lit up George's face before Benjamin ushered him into the drawing room and I went up the stairs.

"Please excuse the unconscious bodies," I heard Benjamin say. "We weren't expecting company."

When I'd returned to my room, I finally freed myself from the dress. But it wasn't long after I'd done so, that an unwanted visitor had Apparated before where I stood in my...er, bra and knickers. I tried reaching behind me on my bed to cover myself with the dress, but to no avail. The moment I thought to reach for my wand, I realized it was still down in the drawing room, and the moment I opened my mouth to scream for help, my guest pressed his hand against my mouth.

"Bad timing, I reckon?" said Dolohov cynically.

I kept attempting to bite his hand, pushing forward so my teeth could reach his hand. And when I finally did and he jerked his hand away, I shouted.

"Ben —!" That was all I got out before he put his hand back.

"Should've known Turner'd stay behind," was all Dolohov said about that. "Now you'd better listen, Harris," he pushed his other hand against my throat, allowing no air into my collapsing lungs, as my back was forced on to the bed. "There's already been suspicion about your grandad's allegiance, just like there was about your father's. You would _not_ want the same for yourself."

"Demetria?!" I could hear Benjamin call up.

"Something about that father of yours never sat right with me," continued Dolohov; I attempted to break free of his bonds at the very mention of my dad. "Ooh, a touchy subject, I see. Well I s'pose it makes sense — why ol' Carlisle'd keep it a secret. Wants you to sport the Dark Mark, after all, doesn't he? I know _I_ do. But maybe not on your arm. He's right, you should keep it more hidden."

As though bringing up my father and the Death Eaters wasn't enough to infuriate me, Dolohov's hand moved from its place on my throat to my forearm. I could feel anger literally boiling inside of me, surging throughout my veins, reaching down into my fingertips.

"Perhaps you could get it somewhere else."

His hand began tracing my body, he moved all along until he reached my chest. And then two things happened at once. I'm not sure which came first, if one of them even did, but I know Benjamin and George bursted through my door and I performed wandless magic.

It was a ray of white light from my fingertips and it jetted out, knocking Dolohov back against the wall. Benjamin raced over to him, dragging him to his feet and out of my room, and George ran to me.

"You'll be one of us soon, Demetria!" Dolohov called out.

"Was that the Death Eater?" George asked me urgently; I nodded, hand caressing my throat. "What happened?"

I was having trouble speaking, so I took a moment and then explained as best I could manage. "He came in...couldn't scream...tried to...Dark Mark..."

Apparently that was a good enough explanation for him, his eyes growing wide as he understood. "And that beam of light, what was that?"

"Wandless magic." I shrugged.

"I've never seen it look like that," he said skeptically. "You can do wandless magic?"

I gave a small breath of laughter and a shrug of my shoulders.

"Demetria, does every dangerous situation require you to be half naked?" Benjamin asked in jest upon his re-entrance.

George looked, once again, as though he were just noticing me. I, myself, had forgotten for a moment that I lacked any clothing.

Where's Dolohov?" he shot up off the bed to ask.

"Disapparated," Benjamin replied indifferently.

"Dem, you've got to come back to Hogwarts with me _tonight_ ," said George decidedly.

"Are you mad?" I asked him, looking around for clothes. Most of them were still either at Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Anything I'd left at home was already dirty thanks to my overstayed welcome. "That's the first place he'll come looking for me!"

"It's also the safest," he reasoned.

"George is right," Benjamin agreed. "You've got to go now."

"But what about Grandad?" I asked him, digging through my hamper now.

"Oh, honestly," said George in a breath. He pulled his arms out of the blue button-down shirt he was wearing, revealing the plain white t-shirt he had underneath, and opened it for me to put my own arms through it.

"I'll be here when he wakes up and I'll tell him what happened," Benjamin assured. "He'd want you to be safe, he'd tell you to go."

"What about Jack?" I didn't make eye contact with anyone, just continued slowly buttoning. And once I'd finished that, I took my time unrolling the sleeves that had been pushed up to quarter length on George.

"I'll take care of it," Benjamin told me genuinely, meeting my eyes; I knew he would.

"Alright, let's go," I told George after a moment.

"You're not taking anything with you?" he inquired.

"Does it really look like I _have_ anything to take with me?" I returned, gesturing around my room and then to my attire.

"Fair enough," he concluded, exiting the room.

I followed him, Benjamin behind me, as we made our way to the room with the fireplace. But first, I made a quick detour to the drawing room to retrieve my wand. And I took a moment to look at Jack, lying there lifelessly on the floor. His eyes were still opened wide, fear evident and pouring from them. There was even a single glistening river that had ran down his face and stained it. I kneeled down to wipe it away and then shut his eyes. His death was because of me. I might as well've been the one casting the curse on him. I killed him.

 _How do you come back from something like that intact and unfazed? Is it even possible? In my case, I've had to learn to make it possible. I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…trained to function without one._

George was waiting for me in the fireplace when I entered the room. He held the Floo powder at the ready, but I took a moment before stepping in. I stood before Benjamin and wrapped my arms around him; he automatically followed suit.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Of course," he replied.

I pulled away and stood beside George in the fireplace. One last look at Benjamin and then — "Hogwarts!" — we were swallowed up by the heatless, emerald green flames. When they subsided, I had expected to be in Dumbledore's office. But as it turned out, there was more than one fireplace in the castle connected to the Floo network, because George and I found ourselves to be in the kitchens.

"Well this is rather inconvenient," said George. "S'pose I should've said Gryffindor common room. Although it works out better for you, I can walk you to the shi —"

"I don't want to go back to the ship," I said shortly; he appeared confused. "Not tonight. I'm not ready to answer everyone's questions."

"All right, well you could...stay with me tonight," he modestly suggested, hand beginning to fidget with one ear; it must've been turning red again.

I simply nodded, following George out of the kitchens and then the basement altogether. When we emerged, the corridors were only vaguely lit with the occasional torch here and there. It reminded me of the first time the twins snuck me down into the kitchens. Which reminded me...

"Have you got the map?"

"I wish," said George, crestfallen. "Fred and I gave it back to Harry. I say he should at least lend us his Invisibility Cloak every now and again."

I remembered sharing that cloak with Harry as we watched the dragons in the Forbidden Forest. Speaking of Harry and the tournament...I'd completely forgotten to share with him and Cedric that I'd solved the egg's clue.

"Well with any luck, Filch'll stay in his office...unless Peeves feels like causing trouble tonight."

We walked slowly and silently down the corridor, keeping close to the sides and peeking around corners before we turned them. I, of course, followed behind George.

"Who's Peeves?" I asked.

"The most notorious and troublesome poltergeist in British history, and he haunts our castle," George said softly in reply. "He loves mischief and chaos...and, of course, getting on Filch's nerves."

"Well let's hope he doesn't tonight," I said.

After I finally convinced George to move a bit faster, we'd finally reached Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor, approaching the portrait of the Fat Lady which I recalled from the last time I'd been there with Hermione before the Yule Ball.

"Fairy lights," said George rather faintly. The Fat Lady did not hear, for she remained asleep — snoring, I might add. "Fairy lights," George said it louder; Still no response. "Fairy lights, dammit!"

"Oh!" The Fat Lady awoke with a start, angered as she looked upon George and I. But she swung open her portrait, regardless. "No manners. Have you any idea of the time?!"

"Yeah yeah, cranky old bat," George said after the portrait shut behind us. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "This way, love."

His hand searched for mine, but when he found it, he didn't weave his fingers in between mine, simply held it like a parent holds their child's. The flames of the fireplace were out as well as the torches, so the only source of light spilled in from the window — a faint moonlight. George led me to the spiral staircase I remembered climbing with Hermione, although I figured since there were two, one was for birds and the other for blokes. Another difference between this common room and the one back at Durmstrang — our dormitories weren't connected to the common room, though our school didn't divide into Houses. My room was separate from the other blokes' though, being the only girl, so I didn't have any roommates. It must've been nice...or annoying, I couldn't decide.

We arrived at what I could only assume was the sixth year boys' dormitory, George using his free hand to quietly open the door. He closed it behind me once we'd stepped in, and continued to guide me to his four-poster bed. Though it was dark, I could make out the beds, the layout exactly the same as Hermione's dormitory. I could hear, and sort of see, George pull away the curtains from his bed, and then usher me forward.

"Ladies first," I whispered.

"I'm trying," he said in jest, his hand now applying a bit of pressure to the small of my back.

"George Weasley, I'm wearing nothing but your shirt, I'm not crawling across your bed to give you a front row seat to my arse." I was only half-joking.

"I wasn't trying to —"

Someone in their own four-poster stirred. We froze until the noise had ceased, and even a few moments after.

"You can have my bed," he explained in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible.

"Where will you sleep?" I matched his voice level.

"There's a perfectly comfortable sofa downstairs," he reasoned.

"And what happens when your roommates try to wake you up and find me here instead?"

"Alright, you've got a point," he admitted. "But just get in, I promise I can't see a thing. I won't even look."

I admitted defeat as well, climbing into the bed all the way on the other side and tucking myself under the covers before George did the same. He shut the curtain, enclosing us in the bed, but we each kept to our own sides...at least at first.


	11. Chapter 10: Good To Be Back

_**Chapter Ten**_

 _Good To Be Back_

:.:.:

I woke up that morning next to George Weasley. No, not _next to_. More like... _on_...sort of. My head was on his chest, his hand resting on my head as though he were playing with my hair. And maybe it was because I finally felt...safe, or maybe I just simply liked the feeling, his warm ambery scent, but I just laid there for a while. Sunlight was spilling into the dormitory as much as it could. Not much penetrated the four-poster curtains, though. But when George began stirring a bit, I knew he'd woken up. That was when I shut my eyes in case he checked to see if I was awake too (and he _did_ check). And after, he, too, continued to lay there just the way we were. He even started stroking my hair back. It was sort of hard to do considering my curls and knots, but he was gentle, twisting curls around his finger. But he stopped immediately after hearing the same rustling I did from another four-poster.

Fred, at least I assumed, gave a deliberately loud yawn, George completely freezing. His chest hardened like marble under my head. I finally lifted myself from it and we shared a wide-eyed look of alarm.

"Rise and shine, vagabonds!" Fred called out, audibly pealing away his curtains.

My hand instantly flew to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle. George's hand joined in, pretending it would actually make a difference.

"Lee, was that you or did you bring home a broad last night, you saucy imp?" He must've pulled back the curtains from Lee's bed.

"What're you on about?" Lee groaned groggily. "I didn't hear a thing."

"Do my ears deceive me or is it you, Georgie?" I could clearly detect Fred's voice getting closer.

George panicked and threw a hand to my chest, nearly pushing me off the bed. "Your ears deceive you!" he shouted to his twin, gesturing for me to go. Just before Fred pulled back George's curtains, I was standing on the other side of the bed, behind those curtains. Luckily, George's four-poster was the closest to the wall.

"Too bad," said Fred. "Thought maybe that's where Demetria's been hiding all this time."

George gave a nervous laugh, probably getting out of bed, and I got down on the floor to check for crawl space under it. The good news: there was, and so I crawled underneath. The bad news: there were quite a few other things under his bed besides myself. Mainly clothes...some pranking products...

"Speaking of hiding, where'd you disappear to last night, George?" Lee inquired.

"I went looking for Demetria again, is all," he said effortlessly...though probably because that technically wasn't a lie.

"Well you must've found her then, if you were gone all night," Fred suggested.

"No, I didn't actually," he lied. "I went up to the Clock Tower and just...sat and thought."

"About what?" pressed Lee.

They were all moving about, probably getting ready for classes.

"Her, mainly," George told them. He sounded genuine about that. I wondered if any part of it was true.

"Sorry, mate," said Fred softly. "I can't imagine how it must've felt to see her and Cedric..." his voice trailed off, not needing to go any further. We all knew he meant mine and Cedric's kiss at the Yule Ball. No wonder George had gotten so angry...for everything.

"Well they aren't official or anything, so maybe there's still hope for you two," Lee offered brightly.

"I seriously doubt that," said George, crestfallen. "You guys go on ahead, I'll be down in a minute."

I waited, even after I heard the door open and close, before crawling out from under the bed. And I was expecting to see a George matching the one I'd just heard a moment ago, but instead he was standing in the mirror, adjusting his tie, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world.

"It wasn't really necessary to hide _under_ the bed, love," he told me with an amused smirk.

I looked down and felt the need to dust myself off, though nothing was really on me. I was still clad in nothing but George's button-down shirt. "George...I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what else to say.

He turned and looked to me in confusion. "It's nothing to be sorry about, love, _I'm_ the one who's sorry — I should probably be a bit more organized."

"I'm not talking about that," I told him seriously.

"I just needed to tell them something they could belie —"

"It's true, I know it is, it explains everything," I rushed out.

"Dem..." He still looked as though he would protest, still gave me that playful smirk as though it were nothing.

"Don't lie to me, George."

That wiped the grin right off his face. He didn't speak for a while; shrugged his shoulders, ears reddening a bit before he finally did. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!" I objected.

"Does it change how you feel?"

"I don't —"

It happened before I'd even registered it. George had grabbed me by the waist and pressed his lips to mine. I was expecting it to be rough, given the moment, but he was...gentle. It had already been longer than my kiss with Cedric... In fact, it felt as though it lasted hours. I thought of my kiss with Cedric, mouth gradually opening and he responding with his tongue. But then I realized...it wasn't Cedric... I pulled away, George staring back at me expectantly. But after a moment of silence, his face fell. I didn't even have to answer his previous question.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Like I said, it doesn't matter," he convinced himself more than me, reaching for his grey uniform sweater.

"Yes, it —"

"It doesn't change how you feel and so it doesn't matter," he didn't sound angry, just stern...and grim.

"I still care about you so it _does_ matter," I argued. "I care about how you feel, you're my friend —"

"Yeah, we're great friends!" George exclaimed. "And I knew that you obviously fancied Diggory too! And yet, somehow, that didn't stop me...from putting my heart on the line!"

"George —"

"Just let me finish," he said, composing himself. "Alright, that _was_ out of line...I didn't have to tell you how I felt. But I did because...I thought _maybe_ there was a chance you felt the same way I did. You wanted to stay with me last night...laid your head on me... I knew you were awake, by the way."

"I didn't mean to — If I led you on or — I just..." I should've realized this sooner. I gave George false hope. It was all my fault.

"You just...?"

"I just feel...safe...with you." I wish I could've told him more...and it be true. "But I s'pose you don't want to be around me anymore."

"What?" said George at once. "Of course I do. Demetria, we really are great friends. Besides...I've practically seen you naked."

I couldn't refrain from smiling. He always knew how to bring one out of me, no matter what the circumstances. He even gave me that mischevious lopsided grin of his.

"But I don't want to hurt you," I told him whole-heartedly.

His smile remained intact. "I'll get over it, love," he assured. "Don't you worry about your devilishly handsome ol' pal."

"It's not Finn I'm worried about," I returned the smirk...until something dawned on me. "Shite..."

"What is it?"

"Finn, Viktor, Grigor, everyone else on the ship...everyone else in this entire school!" I began. "I wish I could just avoid all the questions I know they'll ask me."

"Well you certainly aren't dressed to answer any of their questions right now," agreed George, looking me up and down as though for the first time.

"Well what am I s'posed to do?" I asked. "All of my clothes are on the ship where all of the blokes from my school are!"

"Temper, temper, Princess," said George in jest. "You'll just have to wait here until everyone's asleep an —"

"Oh no, absolutely not," I interjected. "You are not leaving me hauled up in your dormitory all bloody day!"

"Well I don't see another option," he said desolately. "Unless, of course, you'd like to wrap yourself in the curtains."

"Just give me a pair of trousers," I insisted.

"None of them will come close to fitting you," George reasoned. "And somehow, that's a worse idea than the curtains."

"I'll be fine, everyone's gone down to breakfast by now," I persisted. "Just let me borrow a pair."

"Don't give me that look, Princess," said George at once, looking away. "Just because I admitted to fancying you doesn't mean you can use it against me."

I hadn't even realized I was giving him any sort of look. I had to be more aware of things like that so I wouldn't hurt George even more...

"Sorry, I didn't realize," I said sincerely, averting my eyes as well. But when they returned to George, he was laying on his stomach on the floor at the foot of his bed.

"That's alright, I'll get you back," he vowed in a playfully wicked sort of way.

"Oh really?" I played along with a smirk. "How so?"

George popped up from the floor, clothes held in one arm. Sure enough, he too, was smirking. "I can't reveal my secrets, love." He then handed me the pile. "It's cold out there."

"George, I'm used to far colder temperatures than this," I assured him, going through it; fleece pajama pants, a heavy thermal sweater, and...sneakers? "And what am I s'posed to do with these?"

"There's still some snow out there, you're not walking to the ship barefoot," he told me authoritatively.

"What happened to not wearing things too big for me?" I questioned, holding up his sneakers which were obviously far too big for my feet.

"That went out the window when you asked for my pants." He held up the pajama pants in protest, which were obviously made for George's long legs and not mine.

"Fair enough." I took the pants back from him and pulled my legs through, then had to actually pull the pants up enough for my feet to even be seen. I put the sweater over my head and then sat on the four-poster with the shoes. They were Chuck Taylors; black with white laces.

"Not up to royal standards?" teased George with a good-natured smile on his face.

"I've never owned a pair of sneakers," I admitted, putting one on. I didn't even need to untie them. "I always wear those combat boots."

"Ol' Grandad doesn't approve?"

I froze after sliding my other foot in. Grandad. Had he woken up yet? Did Benjamin tell him where I was? And what about Jack? Did Benjamin find his family? Would there be a funeral? How much did Mrs. Gelling cry? How badly did Mr. Gelling want to find whoever killed his son? Did Benjamin even tell them what really happened? That he was killed... Or did he lie to them? I wondered if Jack had siblings...friends that would mourn him. Or maybe Jack was like me and had no one...except perhaps a grandfather.

"Sorry, that was... I didn't mean it," came George again.

"What, no, it's not that," I told him. "I was just thinking..."

George sat down next to me. "I'm sure he's fine, love," he assured me sincerely. "I wouldn't worry about him." The bell sounded throughout the grounds and the castle. " _Aaaaand_ now I've missed the most important meal of the day."

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, I'll just swing by the kitchens on my way to..." George paused and then feigned vomiting off to the side. "...double Potions."

"You have _double_ Potions?" I asked fervently, the two of us getting up from his four-poster. "Lucky..."

" _Lucky_?!" he parroted incredulously. "Having Snape two periods in a row is anything but!"

"Snape is —" I caught myself, realizing that I couldn't mention I knew Snape without blowing that at least Grandad was a Death Eater. "— nothing I'm sure I couldn't handle. I love Potions. I'm in an advanced class back at Durmstrang."

"I shouldn't be surprised," said George, opening the dormitory door for me. "I'd heard you were one of the top students in the entire school."

"Well, er, yeah," I admitted modestly. "So if you ever need help, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, love," George said with a genuine smile. When the two of us reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped me at the portrait hole. "You might want to wait until everyone's gotten to their classrooms," he advised. "Looks as though you won't be avoiding your Durmstrang chums after all."

"Might as well get the questioning over with then," I said defeatedly. "Now don't you have a double Potions class to get to?"

"You're right, can't be late to that," George went to open the portrait hole, but froze and turned to face me for a moment. "Although..."

"What is it?" I curiously inquired.

"I just don't see how I'm going to be able to focus for about two hours without thinking of those lacey knickers of yours," he said with a sly grin. I raised my eyebrows to him until it unfolded in my mind. "Fred and I had Harry pegged as the thong wearer."

"You said it was too dark to see anything, you git!" I recalled the previous night and how I said I wouldn't crawl into his bed first...for this exact reason.

"I also said I'd get you back," he countered. "So long, Princess!" And before I could say anything else, he'd disappeared on the other side.

What was I going to do with him?

–

"Where were you?!"

"Vhere haff you been?"

"Why did you disappear?"

"Ve vere vorried!"

"We thought we had lost the tournament!"

Ah, good to know their concern wasn't for my safety or anything... Although, I shouldn't say that. Some of my Durmstrang brothers _were_ genuinely concerned. They all attacked me with questions the moment I'd come within sight of the ship. And boarding was no better.

"I just needed a break!" I explained to them, everyone quieting down. "Professor Dumbledore sent me home and I just...took an extra day. I'm sorry if I worried you, but I'm back. And...I'm ready to win this for Durmstrang!"

Cheers errupted. Godric, they were so easy. It seemed as though they'd cheer for anything as long as you shouted it out. But I didn't test that theory, simply made my way toward mine and Viktor's bunk bed. But before I could make it that far, I was stopped by none other than Nikolai.

"So glad you have returned, Lille Prinsesse," he said in a bitter tone which didn't quite match the malicious smirk on his face. "I thought I would have to take your place in the tournament."

"Well then it's a right good thing I came back when I did, or else you would've cost Durmstrang its victory," I challenged. We both kept our voices low enough so not to attract attention.

Nikolai gave a full laugh. "I would not be so sure of that," he told me gravely. "Would you like to hear what Karkaroff told me when I asked to do the stepping in?"

"Probably something along the lines of..." I hoped my Norwegian was up to par. "...over min kalde døde kropp." _**(Over my cold dead body)**_

" _Everte Statum!_ " Before I could even think to counter attack, or retrieve my wand, I was shot with a short burst of sharp pain, knocking me off my feet and backwards a bit.

But in that same instant, someone came up from behind me with their wand extended toward Nikolai. " _Fumunculus!_ " It was Grigor.

" _Fumunculus_?" repeated Finn in disbelief, coming from behind to help me to my feet. "That's the first one you thought of, Grig?"

"It is much vorse than it looks," Grigor defended. "Try to remove all of them, Pavel!"

Nikolai stood before me, face covered in boils. His expression was actually unreadable... I couldn't see past the work of the Pimple Jinx. But he kept his beady eyes on me as Oskar rushed him toward the other side of the cabin.

"Perhaps next time _you_ should do the spell casting if you think you can come up vith something better on the spot," Grigor casually said to Finn.

"There should not be a next time," came Viktor. I was wondering when he'd pop in. "Demetria, you know you should not be getting involved vith Pavel and his gluposti." _**(bullshit)**_

"Da, bashta," I teased him; Grigor and Finn chuckled. _**(Yes, father)**_

Viktor gave his usual amiable smile. "I like to think of myself more as a viser, older brother," he said before coming up to me and tousling my hair.

I laughed but maneuvered away from him and made my way toward our bunk bed.

"So is it true?" Grigor asked me as we came to our corner of the cabin.

"Yes, of course," I assured all three of them, for they were all looking to me expectantly. "Where else would I have been?"

Finn still looked unsure, but I couldn't blame him. He was, after all, the only one who had an idea of what I was really up to. He kept silent, but that answer satisfied Grigor and Viktor.

"Vell it is good to haff you back...truly," said Grigor, obviously more sincere than Nikolai.

"Strictly for the tournament, of course," Viktor joked.

"Right, of course." I smiled, Viktor planting a kiss on top of my head.

"Sestra," he said softly to me before addressing all of us. _**(sister)**_ "Vell, I am going for a swim."

"A swim?" I was shocked...though not much. After all, I'd seen him swim in colder waters than the lake we were docked in.

The lake...swimming... Oh, for the love of Merlin!

"When's the second task?" The question shot out, causing a bit of a jump from Finn and Grigor, Vik already having walked off.

"About...five weeks away," replied Finn. "I thought you already figured out the clue."

"I did," I assured him. "I just need some practice."

And so I rushed off after Viktor, climbing out of the cabin and catching him at the starboard railing, pulling off his pants. He had a pair of swimming trunks conveniently underneath.

"Swim often, Vik?" I asked him as he pulled off his shirt. We were the only two on the deck.

"Lately," he told me. "I haff been looking for vays to make this task easier for you."

"Any luck?"

"So far it has been nothing but attempting Transfiguration," he admitted, looking out at the lake.

"Transfiguration?" I echoed. "You mean on yourself?"

"Yes, such as the shark," he explained. "The trick is to Transfigure...not completely. Othervise you vill haff the brain of a shark as vell."

"How the sodding hell am I s'posed to do _that_?" I asked him.

"Vhen I learn, you vill be the first to know, trust me," Viktor assured.

"Well shouldn't I be helping?" I inquired. "It's _my_ task, after all. You shouldn't be doing all the work, Vik."

"Doing all of the vork vould include pulling it off and swimming through the lake to find whatever it is the morska sirena has taken," he said airily. "And _that_ is _your_ job."

I had almost forgotten what was expected of me for the task. "What d'you reckon they'll take?"

"It is hard to say," said Viktor. "Is there something of value to you?"

"Nothing comes to mind." Except for that damn locket...

"Then perhaps you vill haff it easier than the others already," offered Viktor with a small smile before diving off into the lake.

That was the first I'd thought of the locket since Finn and I went to see...whatever her name was, that loony Divination professor. I didn't even have another dream. Light with a capital L. Ugh, I was not about to try and decode that again.

Viktor re-surfaced, just his head bobbing up in the middle of the lake. He waved me in. "Going to join me?" he called out.

"Are you insane?" I shouted back.

"Practice makes perfect!" he said simply.

I rolled my eyes, but smiled, looking around to ensure no one had come up on deck. The coast was clear, so I stripped down to my bra and knickers. Viktor wolf-whistled as I stood up on the railing.

"Shut up, Vik," I told him, though still smiling. "You're my brother." And then I dove in.

He and I swam and practiced Transfiguring ourselves all day... Well, until lunch, at least. He'd also suggested we investigate the lake further so I'd have an idea of what I was up against, but I told him an advantage that big wouldn't be fair at all.

So when the bell for lunch sounded throughout the grounds, Viktor and I waited some time after for the ship to clear out before getting back on deck and putting our clothes on. Although, I did actually take that opportunity to retrieve my own clothes from the cabin and change into those. After doing so, Viktor and I made our way to the Great Hall, discussing other possible options other than Transfiguring.

"Couldn't we do something a bit simpler?" I asked him as we entered the castle.

"Such as vhat — the Bubble-Head Charm?" he questioned mockingly. "Demi, that Madame Maksimalen —" **(** _ **Maximum**_ **)** I gave a full laugh at that. "— is like Grigor said: all about the style points. You vill not impress her vith something simple."

"Alright, well what if instead of a shark, it was a — ?"

"Ve vill continue this later," said Viktor decidedly as we approached our usual spots at the Slytherin table.

That was when I remembered what I'd completely forgotten I wanted to avoid — everyone's questions. And sure enough, taking my seat among my Slytherin acquaintances (Not sure if _friends_ was the appropriate term), that was exactly what they did. But much to my surprise, it wasn't Finn, Viktor, or Grigor who got them to stop. It wasn't even me.

"Oi! Sod off! Don't you reckon she's heard enough of that?" It was Draco. "She probably went home for the holiday. Am I right?"

He directed his grey orbs toward me then. "Yeah, I did," I replied. That seemed to settle things. I wondered if Draco knew what I'd been up to, if his father filled him in. When all of the nosey onlookers returned to their own conversations, I muttered "Thanks" to him.

"No problem." And he actually offered a small smile with it. A genuine one, at that. I wish I'd actually taken the time to get to know Draco during all those Death Eater meetings or whatever we were both forced to attend.

"Well, Demetria, now that you _are_ back," came Adrian charmingly. "I was just wondering how you thought I was as your date."

"Fit for a champion," I assured him. "Speaking of dates..." I turned to Grigor who appeared to be wrestling with a chicken leg rather than eating it. "How did yours go, Grig?"

"I had fun...Ginny said she did too," he told me brightly. "You know I am usually not one for dancing, but she convinced me." He said the next part softer, leaning in closer to me. "Thank you again for doing the setting up."

"Don't mention it, mate," I told him with a grin. "What about you, Vik?"

"I, too, had fun," he shared. "Er, Herm-own-ninny —"

"Hermione?" I offered.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I like her...very much...but her red-headed friend does not like me."

Ah, Ron. I had a front row seat to that. "I'm sure he'll come around," I insisted, despite that.

"Sorry, blokes, but the only date I'm concerned with — besides my own — is Draco's," came Finn seriously.

"Why's that?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Because it obviously didn't go well, and I can't thank you enough for whatever you did to ruin it."

We all gave a chuckle at that, even Draco having to laugh a bit. I'd forgotten Draco ended up taking that awful pug-looking girl, Pansy, and was also grateful she was no longer sitting with us at the table.

"You never did tell us vhat happened," prodded Viktor.

"That's because I'm still trying to forget," Draco defended.

"Aw, c'mon, _Drakey_ ," cooed Adrian. We all errupted in laughter again.

"Alright, alright," Draco admitted defeat, though smiling like a good sport. "Well, long story short...ened... I had Crabbe and Goyle acting as my bodyguards but she continued to try and hug me, cuddle me, kiss me, her hands were restless the entire night. So I finally told her I'd get us something to drink and for her to wait at the table. When I didn't return after...oh, a good... _three bloody minutes_ , she went searching for me and found me dancing with another bird. Didn't want to speak to me again after that, told me we were 'over'." He applied the air-quotes.

Finn began applauding and soon we all joined in.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he announced, raising his goblet. "To Draco Malfoy: for being the worst possible date and getting rid of that unbearable wench!"

We all raised our goblets and chorused, "To Draco Malfoy!" before all taking a swig and laughing once again. But we were interrupted by a particular Hufflepuff approaching our table.

"Demetria, hey," Cedric greeted me from the other side with a warm smile.

"Hi, Cedric." I returned it, and was vaguely aware that someone at the table was making fun of me for it. I wasn't sure who, but I heard the others snickering. Although I didn't care, I was too busy looking at Cedric who looked no where else but at me.

"George Weasley told me you were back," he said.

I looked past him for a moment to the Gryffindor table, George catching my eye almost immediately. He was looking over at us, smiling at me when our eyes met and then looking away. It must've been hard on him.

"Yeah, here I am." My gaze returned to Cedric, the smile back in place. I heard more snickers around me. I caught who was mimicking me from out of the corner of my eye.

"I was wondering if... Would you walk with me to my next class?" he asked with sort of a breath of laughter, almost as though he were nervous.

"Yeah, of course," I told him, both of us smiling wider. "Let's go."

And then I'd waited for him to turn and walk off, before slapping the mimicker upside the head without even so much as looking at him.

"Love you too, Dem!" called out Finn.

I turned back after I got up from the bench, rolling my eyes at him with my smile intact. And when I met Cedric at the end of the Slytherin table, we walked out of the Great Hall together.

"So...the second task is coming up soon," I reminded him as we began making our way down a corridor.

"Yeah, thanks again for the tip on the egg," he said sweetly. "I passed it on to Harry."

"Oh, so I _did_ tell you?" I asked. "Hm...I couldn't remember if I did or not."

"Well it _was_ sort of a while ago," he advocated. "It was before you left..."

Godricdammit! I should've known he'd ask too. "Sorry about that..." was all I could think of saying.

"You don't have to apologize, you had your reasons," he said sympathetically. "Besides, I'm sure you've been getting interrogated all day."

"It certainly has been quite the popular ice breaker," I said, earning a small chuckle from Cedric.

"The only thing I want to know is..." He grew serious then. "...was it because of me? The reason you left, I mean. I thought maybe...after the kiss..."

"What?" I stopped in my tracks after we'd gotten off a staircase. Cedric followed suit. "No, no, absolutely not. I just needed a br —"

"Like I said, I'm sure you had your reasons," said Cedric. And all he had to do to silence me before he spoke was tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I'd pulled my wet hair into a high ponytail but I suppose I'd missed some pieces in the haste. "Don't feel forced to tell me anything."

"I don't," I told him honestly. That made him smile, which I couldn't help but mirror.

Just then, the bell rang.

"Well maybe when we've got more time," he suggested. "Like at the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday."

"Shall I invite the rest of the blokes again or...?" My voice trailed off, hoping he wouldn't say yes.

"Not this time," Cedric told me with that charming smile of his. Students could be heard throughout the castle now. "I s'pose you could call it a...date."

I stood there smiling at him for what felt like a century. "Looking forward to it," I finally told him.

"Me too," he admitted, beaming. Students rushed on to the staircases and passed us then. "Well I should get to class."

"Right, yeah, I'll see you around," I told him, though still not moving. Neither did he.

"See you," he returned.

But before walking off, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. If I hadn't been smiling like a tosspot before, I certainly was then. I watched Cedric walk off then, smile intact, and didn't turn to leave until he was out of sight.

I felt a pang of guilt, though, for I then remembered that George felt for me what I felt for Cedric. And then I realized...

I just admitted I fancied Cedric...

–

"Took you long enough!"

"You are just realizing this now?"

"I vas expecting something more exciting..."

"Thank you all for your support," I deadpanned.

I was back aboard the ship after my walk with Cedric, having just told Finn, Viktor, and Grigor about my realization.

"Vell this vas not exactly _news_ , Demi," said Viktor, pulling down his pants to reveal, once again, swimming trunks.

"Vik, you ever gonna take a break, lad?" asked Finn. Viktor looked to me.

"It is for the tournament," he replied, eyes still on me.

"Finn's right, you should take a break," I suggested.

"Alright, now I am confused," Grigor admitted. "Vhy is Viktor doing the swimming if Demetria is doing the task?"

"He's been trying to figure out partial self-Transfiguration," I explained. "And once he knows, he'll teach me so I can breathe underwater."

"You do not know how to self-Transfigure?" Grigor inquired, seeming taking aback.

"We're only fourth years, you don't learn that until sixth," Finn clarified. "Besides they're only partially Transfiguring."

"Vhich reminds me..." said Viktor suddenly. "You vere about to suggest something other than a shark vhen ve came to the Great Hall."

"Oh right," I said doubtfully. "Well I — er — it's nothing, it's stupid."

"Well then now you _have_ to tell us," said Finn in jest.

I smiled despite my doubts. "Alright, fine," I admitted defeat. "Rather than a shark, what if I could Transfigure into...whatever's in the lake."

I waited in the silence, different expressions registering across their faces. Grigor appeared rather taken aback, Finn was looking impressed, and Viktor was...well, thinking...

"That could vork..." he said, still musing. "Full Transfiguration may even be possible..."

"So, vhat, Demetria is becoming the giant squid?" Grigor inquired innocently.

"Grig, where'd you hear that?" asked Finn, amused.

"Everyvun from Hogvarts is saying such things..."

"I reckon they're just trying to scare us, seeing as how we're _on_ this lake every sodding day," I suggested.

"Alright, so what's Dem _really_ becoming?" Finn directed his question toward Viktor. "A mermaid?"

"If I remember correctly...morska sirena are not found in waters such as these," he shared, pulling his trousers back up to cover his trunks. "Ve should visit the library just to be sure."

"Sounds as though you've been spending a bit too much time with Hermione," I teased. Fred and George had told me about Ron and his friends, Hermione being the one who always insisted upon homework and studying and such.

"I actually have not seen her since the Yule Ball," Viktor admitted, a hint of saddness in his tone. We all began following him off the ship and across the grounds.

"Why not?" Finn came in sympathetically.

"Nothing has gone vrong," Viktor insisted hastily. "Ve simply...haff not run into eachother."

"Well then maybe you should just find her on purpose and ask her out," I brightly offered, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You two should get out of the library, maybe take her on the Hogsmeade trip this weekend!"

"I vas going to vork on the Transfiguring this veekend," he said indifferently.

"Vik, you've already done more than your share," I insisted. "This is my task, so I'll figure it out. You said yourself I won't need partial Transfiguration, and that's part of what made it so difficult." Viktor could see I was making sense. Maybe he was just nervous to be on an actual date.

"It could be dangerous if not done prop —"

"I'm one of the best in the school, Vik, you're all out of excuses. Go out, brat," **(** _ **brother**_ **)** I pressed; he was beginning to smile. "I'll stay here and work on the Transfiguring... _and_ babysit Grigs."

"Vhat?" said Grigor himself, who had clearly not been paying attention. Probably mesmerized by the moving staircases we were on then.

Viktor laughed, something he didn't do as much as he should. "Alright, you vin, I vill ask her."

"On the contrary, I reckon it's _you_ who wins, mate," said Finn, playfully nudging Viktor in the ribs.

Viktor gave another full laugh, but it ceased as soon as we were outside what I assumed was the library. "Just a varning: the librarian is samiyat strikten." **(** _ **very strict**_ **)**

Vik, Finn, and I turned to look at Grigor. " _Naistina_?" he said exasperatedly. _**(Really)**_

"Just making sure you heard." Finn patted him on the back before we entered through the library doors.

Dark. That was all I noticed at first. Not much light in there, and well, other than that it was much like any other library. It wasn't quite as big as the one back at Durmstrang, but they possessed the same bookshelves, tables, wooden study carrels...old book smell. Durmstrang's had a huge window that nearly covered an entire wall, allowing sunlight to spill in and give one a front row seat to the Norwegian mountains.

Viktor being the expert, out of the four of us, on the Hogwarts library, led us to the appropriate section and began searching.

"Vhat exactly is it ve are looking for?" Grigor asked.

"Anything on —"

"Merpeople," Finn cut off Viktor, showing us the book he found. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He was already flipping through the pages.

"Well this went easier than expected," I airily said.

"Yes, a bit _too_ easy," Viktor agreed. "Vhat does it say, Finnick?"

"Let's see... Sirens —"

"Morska sirena," Viktor clarified more toward Grigor and I.

"— are the earliest recorded race of merpeople...lived in _warm_ water...Greece...exceptionally beautiful as compared to colder water merpeople like selkies and Merrows."

"Great, it had to be the ugly one," I sneered.

"Perhaps one is...less ugly," Grigor offered to cheer me up.

"You won't like it either way," Finn told me truthfully.

"You know of both creatures?" inquired Viktor curiously.

"Yeah, I've encountered my fair share," he shared. "I grew up here in Scotland, and anytime I'd go swimming, my mum would tell me to watch out for selkies. Merrows are Irish."

"I thought you _vere_ Irish," said Grigor, amazed.

"That's like saying 'I thought you were Russian'," Finn countered.

"The Irish and Scottish sound the same!" he defended.

"Bulgarians and Russians sound the same," Finn returned, though keeping his voice low and smirk intact.

"Keep it down!" appeared the librarian out of no where, whispering fiercely. The woman looked like underfed vulture; I was surprised I hadn't noticed the last time Finn and I were in the library. Her skin was parchment-like, her cheeks sunken, face shrivelled, and she even had an unflattering hooked-nose. She was so thin, she looked as though she might snap at any minute...literally _and_ figuratively.

"Madam Pince," Viktor disclosed as she disappeared.

"Oh, I thought that was a selkie," I said, half comically and half sarcastically.

"You should _be_ so lucky," said Finn at once, turning the book to face me and revealing a close-up photo of what I inferred was a selkie, swimming up to the camera and screaming before doing it all over again.

It bore no resemblance to the beautiful mermaids and sirens I'd grown up assuming were the majority of merpeople. The selkie appeared more fish than human. The one in the picture had grey skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Its eyes were piercingly yellow, as were its broken teeth.

"Svyat laĭna!" Grigor shouted out, the first time the selkie came right up to the edge of the photo. **(** _ **Holy shit**_ **)**

Madam Pince was back immediately, staring us down silently with an irate expression. Grigor was first to rush out, the rest of us following suit directly behind. I turned to see if she was still watching us just before I walked out the door... She was.

"Vhat did I tell you?" said Viktor, the three of us looking to Grigor again.

"I could haff used some varning about the selkie," was his excuse.

But just as we began walking off, the library doors were opened again, Madam Pince stepping out, so livid she was practically turning red. She had an owl on her shoulder with a parcel in its beak.

"Demetria Harris?" she grumbled.

"Yes," was all I had to say before the owl came swooping toward me. By the time it had perched itself on my own shoulder, Madam Pince had disappeared back into the library, doors being slammed behind her.

"Sweet woman," Finn mocked.

I removed the letter from the owl's beak, the front of it reading my name in an unrecognizable handwriting. Regardless, I unfolded it and read.

 _Demetria_ —

 _I found Jack Gelling's family. Well, his aunt... I told her I saw him get mixed up in a bar fight, that he was trying to defend a young girl. But the bloke he fought went too hard on him and he was beaten to death. It was the best I could do on the spot._

 _This woman didn't know me, didn't even ask if I was a friend of Jack's, but she still hugged me and thanked me...and cried on me. She told me to take her to the bar (I'd moved his body to Lost Angel) and on the way, she told me some things. She said she had to raise him on her own, her sister and her husband not fit to be parents. She didn't say why, just that Mr. and Mrs. Gelling had to deal with their bullshit before they could handle taking on a child. But they obviously never were and still aren't._

 _Jack was going to turn 21 next month. He was studying at some Muggle school called University of Oxford. He wanted to become a lawyer, though I'm not entirely sure what that is. His aunt also told me he was suffering from a disease called lupus. I'm not quite sure what that is either, but she told me it was something very painful and difficult to deal with, but Jack never showed that pain to anyone...except her, of course._

 _Demetria, I doubt this will help you but...I was hoping it might, even just a bit. Jack has been put out of his misery. He no longer has to live a life of pain and struggle. And that isn't just me talking, it's his aunt. Even she looked on the bright side of this. She said he was finally in a place where he couldn't hurt any longer._

 _In other news (a smooth transition, I know), Carlisle woke up about an hour ago and I told him all about what happened. He said it was a right good call sending you back to Hogwarts and he wishes you luck in the next task of the tournament, and so do I. He also sends you his love...and a surprise waiting for you in the kitchens, which I had nothing to do with. Unless you like it, in which case I had everything to do with it._

 _Be safe,_

— _Benjamin Turner_

"Who is it from?" inquired Grigor.

"My grandad," I replied after a moment, letting the owl go. It soared off out the nearest window.

"You vere just vith him during the holiday," Grigor pressed as we all began making our way down the multiple staircases.

"Yes well, there was just something he forgot to tell me about my...Christmas present," I quickly thought up.

"So _that_ is vhat that vas..." said Viktor grimly.

"What _what_ was?" I asked.

All three blokes exchanged looks as though to decide which would be the one to tell me...whatever it was they had to.

"It should be you, Vik, you're the one who first noticed," Finn insisted.

"Will someone just tell me!" I fervently demanded.

"All I know is I voke up Christmas morning and nearly cut my foot on broken glass by our bunk," Viktor explained to me. "Grigor helped me collect it and ve vere going to throw it avay, but Finn said ve should ask you."

"But you didn't come back on the ship all day, and you left before the ball was even over," Finn finished as we made our way out on to the grounds.

 _I awoke, mid-scream, to find my body being shaken by Finn. And for a moment, all I could do was stare at him through the darkness, his sea-foam green eyes popping out against it. And he didn't even have to ask anything, for he was fully aware of what happened and was already helping me down from my bunk, a slight smashing sound emitted as he did so._

"Did you ever piece it together?" I asked just out of curiosity.

"Yeah, but we'd forgotten about it until now," he said. "Still got it somewhere, Viktor?"

"Of course."

Once back on the ship, we went down into everyone's shared cabin and over to the bunk Viktor and I shared. Vik began his search for my present under the bunk...well, his part of it.

"Dem, if you haff your own dormitory back at Durmstrang, vhy is it you do not haff your own room on the ship?" Grigor wondered.

"The ship isn't exactly outfitted with plenty of cabins to go around," Finn answered for me. I was watching Viktor pull a box out from under his bed. "Besides, she's got all the privacy she could ever want right here in the corner," he finished sarcastically.

"It's true," I added derisively. "I just hope I don't get too accustomed to the luxury of changing clothes under my blankets every morning."

"You haff done that vonce," Viktor said with a chuckle, opening the box, slowly and carefully unwrapping the object from the wrapping paper and tissue molded around it. "Just do not grow accustomed to me sheilding you as you change your clothes every morning."

Finn and Grigor joined in the laughter, but mine ceased as soon as my eyes fell upon the object, finally unwrapped. It was a black leather case with some silver lettering on it that I couldn't quite make out from looking at it upside down. But whatever it said, it caused Viktor to conclude his laughter as well. He looked up at me with a smile.

"You vill like this, Demi," he assured me, turning the case around to face me.

 _Aiden Patrick Harris_

And then I mirrored Viktor's smile. It was my father's, probably the same broomstick servicing kit he used as a Tornado. I knelt down and unlatched it, the inside of the top home to numerous clippings from the _Daily Prophet_ and _Quidditch Illustrated_ all about my father. There were also different stickers of the Tornado's symbol, the blue double-T. Needless to say, I was far more interested in the articles rather than the instruments for broomcare. They all talked about some extraordinary move or trick Dad had performed, or how his goal had saved the game. One article even spoke of the Tornados being chosen to represent England in the Quidditch World Cup of 1978, my father ensuring the win.

That was what I wanted for myself...not for the rest of my life, but for a good portion of it. I wanted to carry on Dad's legacy, and perhaps even start one of my own. But I knew Grandad didn't exactly want that for me. He said I was so gifted and intelligent, I had the skills to become practically anything I wanted. I just had no idea what to be...

"Your father truly was incredible, Dem," Finn commented, looking over my shoulder at a clipping.

"Yeah..." I said almost distantly. "I just wish I knew more about him than these reporters probably did."

I got up from the floor and gingerly placed the kit on Viktor's bed, taking a seat next to it.

"Your grandfather never speaks of him?" Viktor inquired.

"He doesn't really like to," I explained simply.

"You still haff a right to know," Grigor chimed in.

All I could do was nod. Of course he was right, but he also didn't understand how truly impossible it was to hear the slightest thing from him about my father. You'd think he'd want me to know what my dad was like, or that he'd want people to know about his son, his only child. But Grandad was different, certainly...told me it was all still his way to cope — to just repress it. Perhaps one day, though, I'd get something out of him.

I spent the rest of the day admiring the kit, wishing I'd brought my broom to Hogwarts so I could actually put it to use, perhaps with some of the Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. But until I did have my broom, I read the clippings again and again, thinking of what they might say when I became Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados. In fact, that thought alone had kept me preoccupied until the dinner bell rang, and that was when I was reminded of the real issue at hand — a surprise waiting for me in the kitchens...

"Demetrius, wait up!" Finn called out as I made my way off the ship.

"Something I can help you with, Winifinn?" I returned the comical nickname.

"Yes, actually," he said. "I was hoping you could help me understand who that letter was _really_ from and what it _actually_ said."

"Alright, you caught me," I surrendered. "It said 'Dear, Demetria... Actually... Love, Really."

"And here I am thinking _I'm_ the smart arse in the group." Finn smirked.

"I can't exactly get into details about it now," I reasoned with him.

"Really quickly, in a nutshell, before we get to the castle," he suggested. "I'll walk slower."

"I thought I was going to stay at home and never come back to school, I attended Death Eater meetings, I was sent on a mission of sorts to pick up a Muggle at a bar and bring him home to torture, Antonin Dolohov got carried away with it and killed the Muggle, wanted me to do it but I refused so he used the Cruciatus Curse on me, George's Patronus came in delivering a message and I accidentally sent one back and it recorded my scream from the curse, my grandad was knocked unconscious from a spell when he tried to help me, another Death Eater stepped in to save me, they all left except that one — Benjamin — but then Dolohov came back and I was half naked, George came to save me, Benjamin got rid of Dolohov... Er, I reckon that's it..."

I'd rushed it all out in practically one breath all before we'd reached the Great Hall. Finn looked to me in relative awe, but then his usual calm demeanor took over.

"All in a day's work, eh?"

I playfully nudged him in the shoulder as we entered the hall. "Oh, and the letter was from Benjamin telling me not to feel bad about the Muggle dying..." Did I still feel bad? I wasn't entirely sure, I hadn't thought much about it, my mind mostly still consumed with the surprise. I wondered if I should even mention it to Finn.

"Well you shouldn't," said Finn seriously. "I wasn't even there and I know it's not your fault. Dem, you couldn't've done anything without getting yourself killed too..."

It was true. Harsh, but definitely true.

"Hey," I stopped Finn, also by placing a hand on his chest. "What d'you think of sitting with Gryffindor tonight?"

He smiled straight away. "After you, m'lady."

Taking my hand from his chest, he held it out and allowed me to lead him over to the table. I rolled my eyes at the gesture but couldn't help smiling the entire time. I located the two redheads I was looking for with relative ease, and saw the two others close by.

"Well well well," said Fred, seated on the other side of the table. "If it isn't the Princess and her court jester."

"Court jester?" Finn echoed with a smirk. "Then what does that make the two of you?"

George was seated across from his twin, the two sharing a significant glance before looking back at the two of us.

"We work for the Princess as well, don't worry, Finny," George assured with the same sly grin as his brother.

"We just earn more of her _love_." Fred wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips.

"Remind me again why I wanted to sit here," I said humorously to Finn.

"If you ever figure that out, let me know," said Lee in jest.

George pushed him down the bench a bit, good-naturedly. "I believe a seat has just opened up," he joked.

Finn offered for me to sit and I would've, but I thought it might not be alright for George.

"You take it," I insisted. "I'll sit by the better half." Fred winked.

I made my way all the way around the table, apparently catching the eye of Harry Potter, because he called my name just as I sat down next to Fred.

Harry was two Gryffindors away, but traded seats with them. Naturally, that brought Ron and Hermione closer as well.

"What brings you over here?" he inquired. I was actually a bit surprised. Harry and I barely spoke.

"Just a change of scenery," I said simply.

"I just wanted to thank you," he said. I wasn't sure what he meant until he added, "Cedric told me." Ah, right, the task.

"Sure, no problem," I assured him whole-heartedly. "Just trying to even the playing field."

"So what about Fleur?" he asked as though he already knew the answer.

"I would've been happy to help, but she ees above us, 'Arry," I mimicked her French accent and lofty tone. That earned a few laughs around the table.

"Demetria," said Hermione after a moment. "I think Ron has something he'd like to say to you as well."

She subtly nudged him, and though I thought he might get angry, he actually needed the nudge because he looked rather uneasy.

"I was...about to get to that," he insisted quietly before turning to me. "Demetria, I just wanted to...er...apologize for the things I said at the Yule Ball. I didn't mean any of it, really."

"Don't even worry about it, Ron," I told him, offering a smile which he mirrored. "I'm sorry I threatened to hex you into the next tournament."

"I'm just sorry it didn't happen," said Fred, earning a few chuckles.

"Could you imagine Ron up against that Hungarian Horntail?" George said, already laughing.

"In a skirt like Fleur's?" I added; everyone joined in the laughter at that point.

"S'pose I deserve that," Ron admitted once the laughter died down. He, too, had joined in on it like a good sport, ears slightly reddening.

We all continued to joke around, at the expense of everyone really. It was fun, nothing like sitting at the Slytherin table. Don't get me wrong, we joked there too, but there was just something more...friendly about it on this side. When the bell sounded, that was the first time I'd been disappointed that it did.

"This was fun," Hermione said, still laughing about something Finn had said.

"Yeah you two ought to sit over here more often," Harry told us sincerely.

"You fit right in," agreed Ron. "Enemy school or not."

He gave a rather uncharacteristic smirk and I rousled his hair a bit.

We bade the Golden Trio goodnight as they walked off first, I walked at the same pace as Finn so we met at the end of the table. Fred, George, and Lee hung back with us.

"So what _really_ brought you over to our table tonight?" Fred asked me. He and Finn always seemed to know there was more to the things I did.

"I decided to take your advice and do what makes me happy," I recalled that night the three of us had snuck into the kitchens.

Fred didn't seem to remember it at first, though. "I told you that?" he asked.

"Well I believe your exact words were 'Tell your grandad to piss off' but that was the jist of it, yeah."

" _Oh_ , right, that!" he said, laughing. "Well I'm glad you did."

I couldn't yet decide if I was glad too. For now: yes. But I feared what might happen if my grandfather or even another Death Eater...like Dolohov...caught wind.

"What're we gonna do without you guys once the tournament is over?" Lee asked, in the middle of his own conversation with Finn.

"Who said we'd be without them?" said George. "I believe they've nearly perfected the cloning process."

"Bugger off." I swatted away at George who tried taking a strand of my hair. But I couldn't stop smiling as he tried.

"Someone get Finny's DNA! Quickly!"

We were all standing just outside the Great Hall now. Fred practically tackled Finn trying to get a strand of his hair, Finn laughing and struggling.

"You don't actually believe we're two different people, d'you?" George asked, he and his twin both stopping to stand side by side.

"We're the same," they both chorused.

"Someone just decided to clone me in case I ever left them," Fred said casually, popping his collar. "She just couldn't live without me."

"Oh I'm sure," I played along. "But she got one thing wrong. George has got a scar right above his right eyebrow." I wasn't entirely sure when I'd first noticed it, but it was there — a small, very faint scar.

George and Fred actually looked rather astonished that I'd noticed it, Lee even looked as though he just then noticed it.

"And exactly what activities have you two been taking part in that would require her to get so close to your face, George Fabian?" Fred crossed his arms and spoke authoritatively, but with his usual sly grin.

George's ears began reddening. Oh, he and Ron were definitely related. Luckily, I stepped in. It didn't appear as though George had a witty remark for that one.

"Well we couldn't keep this secret forever, George," I said, feigning sadness as I placed a hand on his chest. "The truth is...George only looks like you, thanks to me."

George had been holding his breath, clearly thinking I would take that in a different direction. But he physically relaxed after I'd said that, his chest falling as he finally released a breath. "It's true, Freddie," George pretended to admit. "Demetria helps me put on my face every morning."

Finn and Lee couldn't suppress their snickering any longer. We all continued to laugh and joke around some more, even long after we were the only ones occupying the hall. Until finally, Finn spoke up.

"Dem, we ought to get back to the ship," he suggested reluctantly.

"Oh, right." I'd actually been hoping to use the crowd of people leaving the hall to cover myself as I snuck into the kitchens. That, unfortunately, was no longer an option, however.

"Yeah, we've got to turn in, too," said Lee. "Great seeing you guys again."

"Likewise, mate," Finn replied for the both of us.

"Always a pleasure, Finn. And glad to have you back, your Majesty." Fred bowed before making his way off with Lee. George hung back still and I could read the unasked question in his eyes.

"You go on, Finn, I'll catch up," I told him.

He looked between the two of us, understandingly, before walking off as well. "Night, George!" he called back.

"Night!"

George waited until Finn was out of earshot to begin speaking. "Did you get in touch with your grandad?" The question caught me a bit off guard.

"Er, yeah, well Benjamin owled me," I explained. "Said my grandad is glad I came back to Hogwarts."

"That's...good."

Back to that word again.

"Yeah..." I agreed, unsure of what else to say. "I don't remember if I ever got the chance to thank you...for that night — _last_ night, I mean."

"I don't remember either, honestly," he admitted with a smile. An actual smile, not one of the Weasley twins' sly grins or smirks.

"Well, thanks," I told him whole-heartedly, mirroring his smile. "It meant a lot...that you came looking for me and all that. And I'm glad you found me."

"I'm glad I found you too," he said sincerely. The smile was fading then, as he got serious. "I'm glad I found you that night after the World Cup in the woods."

It was time to face the fact that no matter how much I wanted him to, George (and Fred, for that matter) would never forget that night. And what was starting to worry me about that, was that they might actually figure out the part I played in all of it. Which wasn't really anything...but they'd know whose side I was on...or at least s'posed to be on.

"That wasn't exactly my shining moment," I admitted, attempting to lighten the mood. George, however, remained serious.

"You were bleeding a lot," he recalled in a small voice. "And ran into Fred —"

"George, don't think too much about that night, wouldn't want your brain to overload," I said, forcing out a laugh. He was having none of it. It actually looked as though something in his head clicked.

I panicked. I had to do it. Maybe not, but I still did. It wasn't _that_ bad, not bad at all, actually. It was innocent and — Oh, what did I do? Did I not mention that? I reached up on my tip-toes and pecked George on the lips. And when I say a peck, I do mean it. It was as though our lips never even met. But it worked, he stopped right in the middle of his next sentence. He looked to me as though he was just noticing I was there, blue eyes wide and face gaining some color.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't've..." my voice trailed off. I had to stop doing that to him, I knew how he felt about me.

George began to lean in to me slowly. I'd given him the completely wrong impression! I did my best to pretend I didn't notice his advance, and shot my head down, suddenly becoming very interest in my boots. How was I going to get myself out of this one?

"Mr. Weasley," came a stern voice from down the hall. Peeking out from behind George, I found it to be Professor McGonagall, that woman with the square spectacles who defended Harry and I against Snape when we'd been chosen as champions. "You are aware you are out past curfew, do you not?"

George quickly composed himself and even straightened up his posture. "Yes, sorry, I was just —"

"No excuses, Mr. Weasley, you are to report back to your dormi —" As she got closer, she realized I had been standing behind George. "Miss Harris," she greeted. "Out for a stroll, are we?"

"I, er, didn't know there was a curfew and needed George's help for something," I quickly pieced together on the spot.

"Well, be that as it may, Mr. Weasley is fully aware of the curfew and may even be serving detention tomorrow evening for breaking it," McGonagall said airily.

"I'm sure it hasn't even been five minutes," George attempted to reason.

"It is...9:35 precisely," McGonagall declared, checking her watch. "Curfew for fifth years and above is 9:00. Care to make it two evenings of detention, Weasley?"

"If George gets detention, I should too," I defended. McGonagall appeared rather taken back, as did George actually. "It is my fault, after all, he wouldn't be out here if it weren't for me."

"That is very noble of you, Miss Harris," she said admiringly. "You will join Mr. Weasley in detention tomorrow evening, but I'm afraid he has earned the second night all on his own."

"Oh, completely agreed," I assured. George appeared insulted, but I swore I saw McGonagall crack a smile at that.

"Now then, shall I escort you back to your common room, or can I trust you not to make any more stops along the way?" she asked George.

"I'm going, I'm going," he insisted, hands up in surrender. "Night, Demetria."

I couldn't help but smile as he began backing away. "Night, George."

"Miss Harris, you will report to my office tomorrow evening, eight o'clock sharp," McGonagall told me seriously before another small smile broke through. "And best of luck to you in the upcoming task."

"Thank you, Professor," I said genuinely before we both began walking in our separate directions.

I didn't even go to this school and yet...I had a detention from it.

* * *

 _Hey, guys! I just wanted to thank those of you who are favoriting and following this story, it is one I posted a few years back but wanted to edit and just decided to completely delete it and re-post it. I have all of the chapters done and I even have the sequel finished as well, but I don't see much point in continuing to post if no one is really reading, so please leave reviews so I know you're interested! I'm currently writing the third book in this series and it's a lot of fun, there's a ton of crazy stuff that happens, so if you love Demetria as much as I do, be sure to review! Thank you again for all the support! XO_


	12. Chapter 11: Never For You

_**Chapter Eleven**_

 _Never For You_

:.:.:

 _I'm seated in a kitchen vaguely familiar to me, with a child in a high-chair before me. It's a girl who can't be any older than a year...and resembles me. I'm trying to feed her, collecting something colorful and mushy on a spoon and bringing it to her lips, only to have her turn her head every time._

 _"Sweetheart, you have to eat," I say it, but it isn't in my voice. I recognize it as a voice I've only remembered hearing in my dream. It's my mother. And that makes the baby..._

 _"Demetria, please," I beg. "I know you miss Daddy, but he won't be home for a while. He's away at a Quidditch tournament." I explain it hopelessly, as though Demetria_ — _me_ — _er, the baby_ — _would understand._

 _"I miss him too," I tell her, tears bubbling at my eyes._

 _But they never do spill over, for a knock comes at the front door and it's not long after, before the door is sent flying back into the house. I immediately retrieve my wand and take to my feet, standing protectively in front of my daughter. A shadowy figure remains in the doorway, only stepping forward enough to stay out of the light of the kitchen._

 _"If you've come for Aiden, you won't find him here," I say sternly. I, myself, can't tell who this figure is, but I as my mother apparently can._

 _"I know," says the figure, hood covering his face, but it is definitely a man...with a familiar voice. "I've come for a different Harris."_

 _He looks past me and I don't even look to my daughter, simply push her high-chair back further and take a more protective stance before her._

 _"I'd sooner pledge my own allegiance to your vile leader than let him anywhere near my daughter," I seethe._

 _"Than this'll be easier than I thought."_

 _The man sends a nonverbal spell of some kind in my direction, but I automatically incant "Protego!" in my mind and my Shield Charm blocks it. This doesn't stop the Death Eater_ — _safe to assume he is, anyway_ — _who continues to cast jinxes and hexes in my direction. I block each one for not only myself, but my daughter who is now crying, until I'm Disarmed, my wand sent flying._

 _"Cruci_ — _!"_

 _I experience a sensation I've previously felt, myself. Energy surges throughout my fingertips and white light shoots from them. But it is nothing like the simple jet of light I had sent flying. My mother sends a radiation, illuminating the entire kitchen and sending the Death Eater to his knees, writhing in pain._

 _I seize the opportunity to Summon my wand and grab my daughter, propping her up on my hip, as I bolt for the door. I just barely make it out when I send a distress flare up into the air from my wand, but that's all I have time to do before I find myself frozen where I stand. It isn't the Full Body-Bind Curse, but I'm still immobile, my daughter, however, is not. She continues to cry out, still attached to my hip, though not for long._

 _The Death Eater grabs me by the waist and brings me back into the house, using his wand to seal the front door back in its place. My eyes being the only part of me I can actually move, narrow to angry slits, especially when he takes my baby from my grasp._

 _"Don't cry, young Harris," he wickedly coos, placing her down on one of the first few steps of the staircase. "This won't hurt your Mummy...much."_

 _Now he turns to face me and picks up where he left off. "Crucio!"_

 _I'm no longer frozen. I drop to the floor, screaming out over the baby, one thousand white-hot knives boring into my skin. My body is twitching, I can feel it, I can still feel my bones breaking and growing back. My vision blurs, but I don't allow a single tear to fall now._

 _"Now, unless you wish for your precious daughter to suffer through that, as well," begins the Death Eater. "I suggest you keep still."_

 _What else can I do? I lay on the cold, marble floor, staring into her hazel eyes that remind me so much of Aiden..._

 _"A wise choice," he tells me, grinning viciously, and makes his way to me now._

 _He grabs me by the hand, forcing me to sit up, and then presses his wand to my inner left forearm. I know what's coming next, but I can't bring myself to watch, can't even bring myself to look away from my daughter at all. She's still crying, though not as loudly, and her eyes never leave mine either, as though she, too, knows what is going on. But when the black ink on my forearm catches the corner of my eye, I finally look to see it happen. Only, it doesn't stay. Jet black ink once pouring from the Death Eater's wand stops, my forearm glowing one minute and free of the Dark Mark the next._

 _"What is this?!" he demands. "What have you done?!"_

 _Something heats up around my neck. "You can't take my Light," I say simply._

 _He slaps me across the face. The baby cries out again, and I'm reaching for my wand because he's about to reach for his. First, he turns to the baby and coos softly, "It's nothing personal" before turning back to face me, wicked grin in place._

 _"Expellia_ — _!"_

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _It feels like someone kicks the floor underneath me... No, wait..._

–

Someone kicked underneath me, but it was Viktor in the bunk below mine. I must've been a bit restless. My hands almost instinctively search for the locket, first around my neck and then somewhere tangled up in the blankets, but to no avail. I thought that was how this worked — after a dream about my mother or the locket...

But it wasn't just a dream...that was how she died... Wasn't it? But she was already a Death Eater...wasn't she? Her and my father...but it didn't sound like they were... That couldn't've been an Order member after her like that...

 _This life is not for you._

 _I thought you wanted this for me._

 _Never for you._

 _But all these years..._

 _We'll talk more when it is safe._

Could it have been that everything was a lie? Everything about myself and my past I thought to be true... Who my parents were... I didn't even know. I watched my mother die and I couldn't remember a thing of it. And what of my father?

I returned my head to the pillow in hopes of falling back asleep with another dream, but I couldn't even fall asleep any longer. So I gave up eventually, quietly making my way down from my top bunk, careful not to wake anyone. Karkaroff had given up on enforcing the uniform rule while we were at Hogwarts, so I traded my pajamas for Muggle clothing. But then again, I reminded myself, I wouldn't exactly be running into anyone. So I simply threw George's jumper on over my T-shirt and the thick, patterned, mismatching socks Dobby gave me before leaving the cabin. And though I'd been expecting perhaps a hint of the sun rising, it was still tucked away, the grounds lit by nothing but moonlight.

I figured then would be as good a time as any to pay that visit to the kitchens and see what that surprise was. Luckily, I remembered the way and had no run-ins with Filch or Peeves or...well, anyone. Once at the painting of a bowl of fruit, I tickled the pear as I'd seen the twins do, though feeling a bit foolish. Regardless, the pear squirmed and laughed, transforming into a green doorknob which I opened.

The kitchen was brightly lit, which I hadn't at all been expecting. Though from what I could see, no house-elves were in it. I began to think otherwise, however, when there came the sound of some sort of cook ware dropping to the floor. And before I could investigate, the source of the noise was revealed...and running towards me.

"Miss Demetria!" It was Tinker, the house-elf of Harris Manor for as long as I could remember, wrapping me — well my waist — in his embrace.

"Tinker!" I greeted in equal shock. "What're you doing here?"

"Master Carlisle suggested Tinker come to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Miss Demetria!" he explained. Guess I found out what the surprise was.

"Well it's great to see you, Tinker," I said genuinely, the house-elf uncoiling himself from me. "But why d'you need to keep an eye on me here?"

Tinker's emerald orbs grew twice their size. "Tinker was not supposed to say that part!" he said, horrified. He grabbed a large brass pot from nearby and began hitting himself in the head with it. "Bad Tinker — bad Tinker — !"

"Stop that!" I ordered, immediately snatching the pot from him and tossing it aside. "Why did he ask you to watch me?"

"Miss Demetria should not be awake so late," Tinker rushed to change the subject. "Can she not sleep?"

No she can't, because she doesn't know a bloody thing about herself or her parents and the only way she can find out is in her dreams.

"No."

"Tinker can help!" he brightly offered; didn't even wait for my response, just scurried off somewhere.

I decided to let him believe he'd distracted me. After all, I wasn't exactly in the greatest state of mind...or the greatest state, in general, and whatever Grandad's reason was for sending Tinker, I knew I probably wouldn't want to hear it when I was sleep-deprived.

"Knotgrass mead!" declared Tinker, placing a green bottle on one of the tables.

I came over and seated myself at the bench in front of it. The label described it as "extra rich," recommended it be served at 63 degrees, and said it contained 23% alcohol.

"This'll help me sleep?" I questioned Tinker who nodded with a smile. "I hope you're right. I haven't slept properly in months." Since the dreams...

Just as I reached for the bottle, Tinker snatched it from my grasp — "Miss will need something stronger" — and scurried off again. When he returned, he placed another bottle before me, only this one, I recognized.

Superior Red — a brand of red wine produced, matured for a thousand years, and distributed by the Malfoy Apothecary. Tinker poured a small amount into a wine glass, looking to me expectantly.

"Master Carlisle would approve," he said, referring to my hesitation.

But that was just the problem — he _would_ approve. Maybe I could never escape the life expected of me. Perhaps it was just my destiny. I took a sip of the wine, already accustomed to the taste, for it was a favorite at most Death Eater gatherings. Gatherings that I would be a part of for the rest of my life. So was there really any point in trying to run from it? I would probably have an arranged marriage to another member of pure-blood, Death Eater society...maybe even Draco...and we'd live out our days drinking Superior Red and living my worst fear: being Death Eaters.

"Miss Demetria," came Tinker, pulling me from my thoughts. "what is the G for?"

I looked to him in confusion. "What're you on about?"

In reply, he pointed to my jumper. Sure enough, there sat a yellow G against the blue sweater that I'd never even noticed.

"I don't — That's not important," I insisted, taking a sip of wine...a long sip... Alright, I finished it...

"Is Miss feeling better?" Tinker carefully asked. When I shook my head 'no', he poured more wine. That was...one of the last things I remember...

When I woke up the following morning, my head immediately began pounding. I didn't recognize where I was, but it appeared to be a cove in the kitchens where the house-elves slept. It was rather small, the bed I was in, but I'd huddled up in a way so that I fit...barely. There was a hot mug of coffee nearby and I could only assume Tinker had left it for me. I sat up and moved to reach for it, but it felt as though my brain was rattling around loose inside my head while someone was constantly smacking me upside the head with a Beater bat. My first hangover.

I got up but, luckily, don't have to walk far, because Tinker was already rushing over to me. "How is Miss Demetria feeling?" he spoke softly for my sake, but the noises of bustling in the kitchen were already too loud.

"Tinker..." I started out, trying to wrap my malfunctioning brain around what happened. "...you got me drunk."

"Tinker put Miss to sleep," he replied innocently. "Miss was beginning to worry Tinker."

"Why, did I do something?" I tried to recall the previous night, but it was useless.

"Miss was saying horrible things about Master Carlisle," he explained. "Calling him a traitor and a liar. Miss then tried to leave, said she must find Greg Weasel and tell him Miss likes him," Realization twinkled in those big eyes. "G for Greg Weasel!" He pointed at my jumper.

"What? No, I —"

"Miss Demetria likes Greg Weasel!" Tinker exclaimed. My head pounded harder. "Who is Greg Weasel?!"

"Tinker, _please_ ," I hissed. He took the hint and calmed down. "There is no Greg Weasel. I was piss drunk, nothing I said made any sense, I'm sure."

"Tinker apologizes," he said, dropping his head.

"S'alright, nothing to apologize for," I assured him, and he brightened up at once. I took that moment to look over at the elves placing food on the tables. It didn't look like breakfast food... "What time is it?"

Tinker looked up above me and then reported: "7:55."

"Oh..."

"PM."

"I slept _all day_?!" My head throbbed even more as I shouted.

But I didn't wait for Tinker to respond, simply took a large gulp of coffee and then left it behind as I made my way for the door. I moved as quickly as I could without giving myself an even bigger headache, and when I decided I no longer cared, I began sprinting for McGonagall's office. I was surprised I could find my way, let alone remember where it was, but I made it just on time... At least, I hoped so. Though I could only imagine what sort of hell I looked like...still clad in George's jumper and my own pajama pants...no shoes, just socks. My vision was blurred and, especially after running, I felt nauseous. So much so that I thought I might...Yep, there it was...though I was able to swallow it back down. That was somehow worse.

"Harris," greeted McGonagall, wearing a smirk as she observed my appearance. "Glad you remembered. Although it looks as though, it was a bit last minute."

I simply nodded, worried vomit might escape my mouth if I opened it. My head was literally a Bludger then, someone smacking me with a Beater bat as though the fate of the game depended on it.

"You all right, Demetria?" It was George, concerned, standing off in the corner. I'd just noticed him.

I gave it a try and opened my mouth to speak. "Peachy," I lied, offering a small smile to convince him. It didn't really seem to work, but he dropped it.

"Now then," said McGonagall decidedly. "Weasley, you will be in the trophy room. You are to —"

"Clean the trophies with Filch without using magic," he recited dully. "Been there, done that."

She only nodded before turning to me. "And, Miss Harris, you will be staying here, organizing these detention files by the dates they were recorded."

A rather large pile of parchments sat just beside McGonagall's desk. Normally, I would be pleased with a detention that didn't require manual labor, but being that my mind wasn't functioning properly, I actually envied George's mindless busy work over my own task.

"You may both get to work," McGonagall declared, sitting behind her desk.

With that, George had left and I took the seat opposite McGonagall's, taking the first piece of parchment in the pile. At least that's what I meant to do... Instead, I ended up knocking over nearly the entire pile.

"Did you sleep alright, Harris?" she asked, growing rather concerned, herself. I practically threw myself to the floor and gathered the files. "No," I told her. That was one excuse. Luckily, my head began to uncloud itself after a few moments passed. I seized the opportunity to actually perform my task, as I feared it would not be possible once the feeling of...well, a hangover...came back. Finally opening the first file, I found it to be a detention issued to George and Fred for setting off Dungbombs in the Slytherin common room. Something told me I'd be seeing a lot of these files for the twins.

"So is this pile just for Fred and George?" I finally asked when the Beaters took a break from hitting my head.

McGonagall smiled. "Not entirely, but mostly," she said in jest. "You all seem to be getting along rather well."

"Yeah, they were sort of the first friends I made here," I shared.

"Well I can see why, you're quite similar," she said. "You and George Weasley seem to be getting close."

I dropped the file I had been looking at. "I — Yeah, I s'pose."

"My apologies, Miss Harris, I didn't mean to pry," apologized McGonagall. "I simply meant... Well after seeing you two last night, I thought it safe to say you two've become good friends."

"Yeah, I guess we are," I admitted, trying to recollect my thoughts as the Beaters returned. "I've really only just met him, though."

"It doesn't always matter how long it's been," she explained. "Sometimes people simply...click."

"Like Finn," I said mostly to myself before looking up and seeing McGonagall still focused on me. "Finn's one of my best mates, I can tell him anything, and I've only just begun to know who he is."

"Finnick Archer?" she clarified, writing something down.

"Yeah," was all I said before getting back to work. There wasn't much said after that, McGonagall would attempt small talk, mainly about Durmstrang, but that was it. I wasn't sure how much time passed, but I appreciated the silence, and my head had grown less foggy during the process. Plus, I no longer had to open my mouth to respond to questions and I felt as though the next time I did, more than words would spill out. Finally, McGonagall told me I was free to go, and I was already feeling better.

"Oh, and Harris," she called after me just as I'd turn to go. "If you know where the trophy room is...?" after I nodded, she handed me a piece of parchment. "Could you pass this on to Mr. Filch, and you may free Weasley."

"Sure," I smiled. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Harris," she returned pleasantly.

I left McGonagall's office and shuffled to the trophy room in no hurry, where I stood for a moment to admire George cleaning the trophies by hand. He looked as though he really knew what he was doing... Then again, he had this detention numerous times before. He finally took notice of me, as did Filch.

"What're you doing here?" he demanded.

"McGonagall sent me," I explained, handing him the parchment. "Weasley's served his time."

"And it says you'll be doing the same tomorrow," Filch informed him, gleefully.

"Looking forward to it," said George dryly. He ushered me out rather quickly, and I couldn't say I blamed him. Filch certainly was...creepy.

"So, feeling better?" George asked me as soon as we'd left the trophy room.

"What d'you mean?"

"Don't play coy with me, Princess," he said with a smirk. "I know what being pissed looks like."

I actually stopped in my tracks. "Wha — I — No — I was _not_ pissed!" I whispered it, though fiercely, as though someone were around to hear it.

"Right, of course, I meant pissed _yesterday_ ," George clarified, though still with that wolfish grin. "I must say, I'm surprised. Never pegged you the type."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" I swore. "I'm not! I don't do...that. I just went to the kitchens and...my house-elf was there and — You know, wine helps people fall asleep!"

George chuckled. "Yeah, it's called getting pissed until you're knocked out," he said as we began walking again. Though, after a moment, he noticed my expression and asked a serious question. "Can't sleep?"

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"Know what helps me?"

I shook my head.

"Flying."

"Flying?" I parroted.

"Yeah, back at the Burrow, whenever I couldn't sleep, I'd just take my broom out for a bit and tire myself out some," he told me. Not a trace of a smirk; he wasn't joking.

"Well, my broom is still at Durmstrang," I said as we came to the Great Hall. This was also the exit from the castle I used to get to the ship. And though we had just served detention for being in the exact same spot the previous night, there we were again...out past curfew again, no doubt.

"You could borrow mine," suggested George. "You're borrowing quite a bit, these days." He tugged playfully at his jumper which I still wore.

"I'm sorry, d'you want it back?" I offered, already pulling it up, my t-shirt underneath, revealed.

"No need to give me a show, love," he teased, putting my hands down along with the sweater. "You can bring it back when you're not wearing it. Now, about the broom..."

"I appreciate it, but I'm sure I'll be fine," I told him whole-heartedly.

"Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind," he said. "...about anything."

Bloody hell, I knew it would catch up to me. I knew it was wrong, I shouldn't've kissed George. Even if it was just a peck! "George, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"To get me in trouble for staying out past curfew?" he cut in, smirk back in place. "I'm sure you didn't, but now I'm starting to think it may be on purpose."

I gave a small laugh. "Right, sorry, wouldn't want to make it three nights with Filch."

He laughed too, but then we just stood there staring at each other. It looked as though he wanted to say something, and I wished he just would.

"What?" I prompted just above a whisper.

George smiled and shook his head. "Nothing," he assured. "Goodnight, Demetria." And then he began walking off.

"Goodni —" I froze and then... Yep. More than words came out.

–

"You are sure you vill be alright without me?" Viktor asked for the umpteenth time that morning. He was dressed and ready for his Hogsmeade date with Hermione, leaving me with Grigor and Finn to work on my Transfiguring.

"Yes, yes, just go, have fun," I encouraged him. "I've practically got it down already."

"Viktor!" a female voice called out. We all looked to see it was Hermione, herself, waiting where the ship was docked. Harry and Ron were with her, though after she leaned in to say something to them, they walked off. Ron, of course, was looking rather displeased, and I was beginning to hope that Hermione spending so much time with Viktor would cause him to tell her how he truly felt. After all, the two were obviously harboring feelings for one another.

"I vill see you three later," said Vik as he began leaving the ship. "Hopefully in vun piece!"

"You'll see!" I called back to him, and then watched as he and Hermione immediately linked arms upon meeting and began strolling off together.

"Look at you, playing matchmaker," said Finn with a smirk, casually leaning over the starboard railing.

"I am not," I defended. "Vik's shy and —"

"I meant with Hermione and Ron."

"You see it too?!"

"Anyone with a set of eyes and ears could piece that one together," said Finn teasingly.

"Not _anyvun_ ," came Grigor, rather quietly.

"Well could _anyvun_ help me with Transfiguring?" I hopefully said, directing it toward Grigor.

"Of course." He grinned.

But we didn't even get to so much as cracking the book open before someone else appeared where the ship met the dock. "Demetria!" It was a male voice...it was —

"Cedric!?" I called it out, sounding sort of confused. But then quickly repeated it, trying to replace the nervousness with excitement. "Cedric!"

"Ready to go?" he shouted back.

Ready to g — ? Oh...shite... "Just a second!" I said to him before turning to Finn and Grigor, slapping each of them on the arm. "Why didn't you tosspots remind me I had a date with Cedric?!" I fiercely whispered.

After a moment, Finn cheekily said: "You have a date with Cedric."

"Useless," I groaned, before turning back and making my way down to the dock. "Cedric, I'm really sorry bu —"

"You can't make it," he finished, crestfallen.

"I really am sorry..." I lamely offered. "I told my mate I'd work on what to do for the next task, and I have to show him that things don't fall apart when he's not around because that's why he almost didn't go to Hogsmeade today and... You probably didn't care to hear all that..."

Cedric gave a breath of laughter and then told me, "Well how can I be upset when I'm up against such a convincing argument?"

"By realizing what a horrible thing this is to do to someone —"

"Demetria, it isn't that big of a deal," he assured me genuinely. "I'll just stop by later."

"Okay, yeah, later," I agreed, though slightly disappointed.

"See you," he said with a sad smile before turning to leave.

Someone's hand fiercely came in contact with my shoulder once I'd made my way up the plank. It was Finn, nodding his head in Cedric's direction. "Go, you twit," he insisted in a whisper.

"But what about —"

"I'll work on it," he assured me. "Just come back before Viktor does and I'll teach you. Now go get ready, I'll keep him here."

With that, he immediately took off and descended the plank, calling out to Cedric. I passed Grigor who was giving me a thumbs up, and hurried below deck to our cabin. I then rummaged through my trunk for something "date-appropriate" but thus far, was coming up short. It wasn't until about two minutes into the search that I gave up and decided upon a pair of tight blue jeans and a rather simple, white sweater. I did, however, happen to find a bright blue bow which could only have been my mother's, considering it was once her trunk. I quickly pulled my loosely-curled mane into a half-up half-down fashion and clipped the bow in the back. After hastily applying whatever makeup I could manage time for, I grabbed my jacket and rushed back up the ladder and found that Grigor was now sporting a thumbs-down gesture. Finn soon appeared back on the ship and when I looked to the dock, Cedric was no where to be seen.

"Sorry, Dem, the train was leaving and Cho Chang showed up —"

"That's okay," I said shortly. "I mean it wasn't a big deal. He said he'd see me later so..."

"Usmikhni se, krasiva," said Grigor softly. **(** _ **Cheer up, beautiful**_ **)**

I hadn't even noticed I was frowning until I began smiling at his words.

"Grig's right," Finn said, seeming to decide on something. "You look far too good to sit around and practice Transfiguring all day. Why don't you let us take you to Hogsmeade?"

"Thanks, gents, but...I dunno, I'm just not up for it any longer," I confessed. "I'll just take a stroll."

And though they seemed disappointed, I knew they really just felt bad for me. I knew they meant well, too, but I didn't want anyone's pity. What I really wanted was just to be alone. And I knew I would be able to Transfigure myself into one of those absolutely hideous selkies without much of a problem, especially since the task wasn't for another five weeks. So I set off for the castle, making my way to the dock and then across the grounds. By the time I'd actually set foot in the castle, my mind was already busier than King's Cross station. It sprung all over the place from the second task to Cedric to the Death Eaters to Grandad to Jack Gelling to the locket...

Ugh. That bleeding locket. And just where exactly had it disappeared to? _That's_ what I wanted. Answers. I wanted to fall back asleep and wake up with that locket and figure out what it meant. Light. Capital L. Can't take my Light. What did any of it mean? I couldn't —

"Ow!" I'd turned a corner and collided with someone rather severely, knocking me to the ground.

"Well well well," drolled a familiarly solemn voice. "Look who we have here — Demetria Harris, _Champion_ of Durmstrang."

I didn't even have to look up to know who it was, though I did. "Severus!" I said in a purposely obnoxious and chipper tone, getting back on my feet. His only response to that was a rather irritated and slow blink. "How really corking to see you again! I take it you won't be joining the others for a day of fun in Hogsmeade this afternoon?"

Severus Snape and I were, by no means, friends, chums, mates, or companions of any kind. I just found an immense amount of pleasure in torturing him by acting as though we were.

Snape simply continued to glare down at me where I stood, catching shade beneath his prominently hooked nose. When he finally spoke again, he, naturally, ignored what I'd said. "I would be careful if I were you, Harris," he gravely advised.

"And I would shampoo if I were _you_ , Snape," I said, keeping the good-natured smirk etched across my face.

He leaned in closer, gritting his teeth and clearly trying to control his temper. "Do not think for _one_ _moment_ that you will not be reprimanded for your actions the other night," he seethed quietly, though no one was around. "There will be consequences to face, each far worse than the last, if you continue to exhibit this kind of behavior."

I hadn't given a single thought as to how Voldemort would react once finding out about the fiasco at my home. I s'pose I didn't think it was that important... But Snape was probably right... He could order my Death Eater initiation tomorrow for all I knew...

"No sarcastic remark, Harris?" said Snape with the closest thing to a satisfied grin I'd ever seen him manage. "What is the matter? Has your quick wit failed you, like your grandfa —"

"Shut up." My fading smirk had snapped like a rubber band into a hard line, my expression hardening to stone. I didn't even want to hear the rest of that sentence.

"A touchy subject, I see," he took joy in stating. "Am I to understand that dear old Grandad has finally filled you in on his little secret?"

"What're you on about?" I carefully inquired.

"Ah, so he's not yet told you," Snape continued, still sounding as gleeful as Severus Snape possibly could. "I cannot say I blame him, however. How _does_ one go about telling their grandchild that their entire life is a lie?"

 _This life is not for you._

 _I thought you wanted this for me._

 _Never for you._

 _But all these years..._

 _We'll talk more when it is safe._

I stood frozen for, I'm not even entirely sure how long. It felt like a century, but Snape wouldn't have stuck around that long. I could only assume the reason he hadn't left yet was because my face was displaying some sort of confused and bewildered expression that he found great amusement in watching.

Finally, without saying a word, I found the strength to move my legs and walk away. At least, that's what I tried to do before Snape reached out an arm to stop me.

"It would be most unwise to go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he told me, utterly deadpan, as usual.

And because I couldn't decipher if it was truly a warning or just a typical 'you're too foolish to understand' sort of comment, I replied with: "You of all people should know. You can't even turn your head without that nose of yours sticking itself where it doesn't belong."

Snape dropped his arm, clearly both unamused at my retort and displeased that I had regained my quick wit. And though he was probably right about refraining from poking and prodding into matters, it was time I got some answers, so I made my way up to the Owlery with a quick detour into an empty classroom for some parchment and ink just lying about.

 _Grandad_ —

 _When will it be safe to talk? You owe me answers._

Sort of harsh and cold, but to-the-point. And it felt sort of unnecessary to sign my name. After all, he's only got one grandchild...doesn't he? I started to wonder, what if that was what he was keeping from me. It sounded ridiculous but... No, that couldn't've been it. Perhaps I should've just gone to Hogsmeade with Finn and Grigor... I needed to get my mind off of things, after all. And I knew if I went back to the ship I would just end up sitting in my bunk obsessing over one of two things: what my grandfather was keeping from me or when he would respond. I wished he would've already... I'd only just sent the owl off with the letter between its beak and I was already itching for a reply. I just needed to clear my head...and that was when it hit me.

After another quick stop, this time out by the Quidditch pitch, I had borrowed a broom from the equipment shed and was doing what George had suggested — flying. At last, something that felt familiar, something effortless and calming. Granted, whichever version of Cleansweep I was flying — possibly a seven — didn't compare to my Firebolt, but it had been so long that I didn't even mind. I stayed out practically all day long, zooming all over the grounds and even a bit further. It wasn't until the sun began to set that I returned the Cleansweep and made my way back to the ship. And though a small part of me had gotten my hopes up to receive an owl from Grandad upon my return, I couldn't say I was surprised to find that that wasn't the case.

"Demetria, vhere haff you been?" Grigor urgently asked as soon as I was on board the ship.

"I went flying, wh — Oh shite..." It dawned on me — students would be back from Hogsmeade in any minute, and Viktor would see that I hadn't made any progress.

"D'you reckon he'll really be that angry?" inquired Finn. "You've still got five weeks until the task."

"Worse — he'll be disappointed," I told him. And it truly was worse than him being angry; luckily, I'd only experienced that feeling once before.

"You do not vant that," added Grigor, who had, unfortunately, experienced said feeling on more than one occasion.

"Alright, so then how d'you self-transfigure?" Finn then appeared as worried as Grigor and I were.

"You cannot expect to learn it now, there is no time," Grigor insisted. "I do not vant you to hurt yourself, Dem."

"C'mon, Grigs, I've got to at least try," I said, pulling off my boots and socks.

"Merlin, are they back already?!"

I didn't even wait for confirmation on what Finn had just said. Propping myself up on the ship's railing, I swung my legs over the side and dropped myself into the lake. Once my arms and legs had cut through the frigid waters and my head was resting above the surface, Grigor began trying to explain the directions to me. Unfortunately, Grigor was not the best teacher, and it didn't help that we were pressed for time...not to mention, this _was_ an advanced spell... But as soon as I saw Viktor lean over the railing, I knew, just like I'd told Grigor, I had to at least try.

* * *

 _I keep forgetting to post new chapters because I'm not even sure if anyone is interested, so apologies for that! I've actually finished this story, as well as the sequel and am in the process of writing a third in this series, so please let me know if anyone wants me to keep updating! Thank you!_


	13. Chapter 12: The Family Business

_**Chapter Twelve**_

 _The Family Business_

:.:.:

When my eyes began to open, I was greeted with the blurry, but still all-too-familiar sight of the hospital wing. After a moment, my vision cleared and I was able to see Viktor, Grigor, and Finn all alongside my bed.

"She is avake!" Grigor was the first to take notice.

"Grig, don't scare the poor girl," Finn teased, keeping his voice soft.

"Are you okay, Demi?" came a concerned Viktor.

I didn't speak right away, mostly because I was trying to process what happened...but I couldn't. The last thing I remembered was being in the lake, trying to transfigure.

"Why is it that every time I go into that bloody lake, I wake up in the hospital wing?" I said, exasperated.

"It is only the second time..." Grigor offered in an attempt to help.

"What the hell happened?" I asked. "I can't remember a thing."

"We dunno much more than you, I'm afraid," said Finn gravely. "One second, Grigor was explaining what to do and you were bobbing at the surface, and then the next thing we know, you were...pulled under."

"Pulled under?" My voice came out shaky and uneven, and I wasn't sure if it was because I had just woken up, or if I was truly that scared.

Grigor certainly was.

"Gigant·ski kalmar," he whispered in fear. **(** _ **Giant squid**_ **)**

"No, that is nothing more than a tale," Viktor dismissed.

"Well whatever it is, it clearly doesn't like me very much," I said, only half-joking. "How am I s'posed to participate in the next task if something is waiting to kill me in that lake?"

"We don't even _really_ know if that's what happened," said Finn. "Viktor jumped in to get you and he said he didn't see a thing down there."

Viktor didn't comment on that; he was looking down in thought, as though trying to decide something. "You vill not be able to practice in the lake," he said when his head popped back up.

"What about the task?" I inquired.

"Perhaps vhatever pulled you under is exactly vhat you are trying to transfigure into," he offered. "In vhich case, vonce you are able to become vun of them, you vill be safe."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, darkly. There was, after all, no way to know for sure. "Where am I going to practice, then?"

"I vill think of something, sestra, do not vorry," **(** _ **sister**_ **)** Viktor assured me, determination clearly present in his eyes. "You should continue to rest."

"How long have I been resting already?" I asked, finally realizing I had no idea what day or time it was.

"Two days," said Grigor.

"Two days?!" I parroted in disbelief.

"Well, I suppose it depends on how you count it," Finn said, casually. "You were admitted to the wing Saturday evening and just woke up now — Tuesday morning."

"You are all surprisingly calm considering I was knocked out for over 48 hours," I said, still sort of in disbelief that they weren't more worried.

"You did sort of wake up very early the next morning," he continued. "but Cedric told us you immediately went into some sort of shock and Madam Pomfrey gave you something to help, but that it would also sedate you for about two days."

"So you voke up right on time," said Grigor, cheerily.

"Cedric told you?" I repeated.

"He valked back to the ship vith me after Hogsmeade, to see you," Viktor explained. "Vhen ve brought you here, he stayed the night. Ve saw him sleeping in that chair the next morning." He pointed to a currently empty seat next to my bed. And speaking of Cedric...

"Demetria, you're up!" He appeared from behind the blokes, relieved and smiling widely. Before I could say a word, he'd wrapped his arms around me.

"Ve vill see you later, Demi," said Viktor with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah, glad you're alright," Finn added with the same look.

Grigor gave me a thumbs-up just before Cedric pulled away, the trio walking off.

"I came down as soon as I could," he told me.

"Aren't you missing breakfast?" I asked, although I didn't really care. I couldn't help but mirror his smile.

"Yes, but that's alright, because I actually have something I wanted to say — or ask, or... Well anyway —"

I sort of cut him off to laugh. We were both smiling like tosspots at one another, though, so it was perfectly fine... More than fine, really...

"I wanted to say this the night of the Hogsmeade trip but, well —"

"Did you really spend all night here with me?" I couldn't help but cut him off again, to ask. I was sure it was true, but I just wanted to see what he had to say.

"Of course," he said as though it weren't even a question. "I would've stayed the next night as well but I had classes the next day and, well, I thought a shower might be a good idea."  
"I completely understand," I assured him, releasing a breath of laughter.

"So...I was in Hogsmeade with Cho and — Well, I dunno, I just felt so... _guilty_ ," Cedric began, the smile slightly fading as he spoke seriously. "I know she has feelings for me, and she really wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, so I took her. I dunno if you've ever been there..."

"Oh, absolutely not," I insisted. "I've heard that place is ghastly."

"It is — Frilly decorations, lacy napkins... A real nightmare," he cracked a smile to admit. "Anyway, I'm not sure if she thought we were dating but...I had to tell her — as a golden cherub sprinkled rose petals on our table —" I couldn't help but laugh once again. "— that there was someone else... Rather, that there _is_ someone else. And I know we don't really know much about one another, so I don't want to rush things and ask you...anything, but, Demetria...there's something here, between us, and I'm hoping you feel it too."

"I do," I assured him, whole-heartedly.

"Good," he said, appearing almost unable to control his smiling; neither could I. "Well, in that case, I would really love to get to know more about you."

But, just then, the bell sounded throughout the grounds, indicating the start of classes.

"Well maybe you can come by the ship later, then," I offered.

"Last time I tried to do that, you ended up in here," he reminded. "No, I reckon I'll stay right here so that I don't lose track of you again."

"The famous Cedric Diggory is playing hookie?" I asked, amused.

"There's a first time for everything," he said. "But we'd better relocate so Madam Pomfrey doesn't catch me."

"You were so rebellious just a second ago," I teased.

"Oh, I still am," he assured me with a smirk. "Come on."

He offered me his hand as I got out of the bed and started to follow his lead toward the hospital wing exit.

"Wait, I almost forgot..."

But before I could ask what, he'd moved his hands to cup my face and embraced me in a firm, yet gentle, kiss. It was just as wonderful as the one we shared at the Yule Ball, except even better because there was no one to interrupt us...until we heard Madam Pomfrey moving about in her office.

"Right, back to escaping," said Cedric, taking my hand and leading me once again.

–

"Favorite...flavour of Bertie Bott's?" came, what had to be, the millionth question Cedric and I had asked one another. We'd spent the entire day together, trying to learn just about everything there was to know about each other.

"Oh, c'mon, that's dumb," I teased.

Cedric laughed. "Alright, fine, why don't you come up with something, then?"

"I will!" I insisted with a smile, although it didn't stay for long. "What's your family like?" There was still a trace of Cedric's grin left as well, for that was the first "deep" question either of us had asked.

"They're pretty great," he told me, beaming once again. "I haven't got any siblings, it's just me and my parents at home... I mean, I've got aunts and uncles and what-have-you, but I don't see them much. My dad is very..." he searched for the right word, and chuckled when he found it. "... _enthusiastic_ about my accomplishments. He's always been proud of me... I actually got an owl from him when Rita Skeeter wrote that article in the _Prophet_ about the Tournament... He was _outraged_ that they mentioned Harry as the champion of Hogwarts and completely overlooked me..."

"That didn't bother you, though?" I felt I already knew the answer to that.

"Not at all."

Cedric was, quite possibly, the most humble and selfless person I knew. It was no wonder he was a Hufflepuff.

"What about your mum?" I inquired.

"Oh no, this isn't an interview," he said in jest. "It's your turn to answer. What's _your_ family like?"

Silence passed for, what seemed like, forever. Part of me wanted to just make something up, to maybe tell him about the life I always wished I had... But a much larger part of me wanted to be honest with him.

Cedric placed a hand over both of mine, which were sort of squeezing one another. That was when I looked up at him and saw his bright, grey, eyes pouring out concern.

"I, erm, actually don't really know what my family is — _was_ — like," I admitted. "It's just my grandfather and I... He's all I've got...and he's not too keen on talking about my family. All I _really_ know for sure is that his brother was a wandmaker...my father was Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados, and... Godric, I can't tell you a thing about my mother..."

I thought, when I looked back to Cedric, he would appear sorry for me, but he didn't. He was actually looking sort of...hopeful.

"Did your parents go to Hogwarts?" he asked; I nodded. "D'you know what year they started?"

"Er, nineteen seventy...one?"

"They were in the same year as my mum, and only a year younger than my father, I'm sure they knew your parents," he fervently shared.

"You really think so?" I asked, though sort of in disbelief. Then again, perhaps I was just reluctant to hear whatever he had to say... What if they were horrible Slytherins who tormented students like Cedric's father? On the other hand...what if they weren't... It was coming to a point when I don't think I cared what I heard, as long as it was the truth. And speaking of the truth, that was when I remembered...

"Shite!" I'd cut off Cedric before he could assure me of anything. "I'm so sorry, I just remembered... I owled my grandad with an important letter a few days ago, but I've been in the hospital wing..."

"Oh! That's absolutely fine, you should go check," Cedric insisted, not at all crestfallen. "It's not as though you're canceling a date to Hogsmeade or anything, this time."

"I said I was sorry!" I laughed when stating. We began to make our way down the multiple staircases.

"You're right, and I forgive you," he assured me, laughing as well. "Go ahead, I can probably still make it to the Great Hall for a quick dinner, anyway."

"Or you could just sneak into the kitchens like I do," I told him, smirking.

"A-ha, a confession," he teased, smiling and pointing his finger at me. "If you went to this school, I would have to take this up with your Head of House and get you a detention."

"You mean I don't get _any_ perks from dating a prefect?" I asked, slipping my hand into his, lacing my fingers in between his own.

"Oh so now we're _dating_?" I expected him to be wearing a smirk, but he was smiling at me so genuinely...

"Aren't we?" I mirrored it.

"If we _were_ , I s'pose I could give you the password to the Prefects' Bathroom, y'know, as a perk," he said. "I'm sure sharing facilities on the ship with those blokes isn't much of a luxury."

We stopped just before the entrance to the Great Hall, hands still interlocked. "That _would_ be a rather nice perk...if we were dating," I told him, playfully. "I'll see you."

But as I went to turn, Cedric pulled me back and placed a rather long kiss on my lips before saying, "Pine fresh." And at first, I thought he meant my breath or something...but then it hit me — the password.

I was dating Cedric Diggory.

—

 _Demetria_ —

 _You're right. I apologize for putting this off for as long as I have. Let's meet tonight at the Three Broomsticks, say nine o'clock?_

— _Grandad_

That was the letter which had been waiting for me back on the ship. But due to my being in the hospital wing, I wasn't able to show up on the night that Grandad arranged to meet. So when he sent a second, and very concerned letter, Viktor told me he sent one back, telling my grandad about how I was in the hospital wing and would be alright to meet him on Tuesday night instead...except he said that my being there was for a different reason.

"Demetria!" I immediately spotted Grandad, practically leaping up from his table to catch my attention. "You're absolutely certain you're not still sick? Dragon Pox is very contagious..."

"I'm good as new, promise," I assured him. "I'm sure Viktor mentioned it was a mild case."

"Right, just making certain," he said before planting a kiss on my cheek and holding out my chair for me. "I considered the Hog's Head at first, but there's hardly ever anyone in there... I thought a crowded spot would be best." He took his seat across from me, two butterbeers that he must've ordered were already on the table.

"Grandad, let's not put this off any longer..." I said rather gravely. And although I felt bad after seeing how much that made his face fall, I knew that meant there was something he'd been keeping from me.

"Very well," he said, solemnly. "What is it you would like to know?"

"Everything," I said as though it were obvious. "But I s'pose we could start with who my parents are, considering I don't know a bloody thing about them."

Grandad released a long sigh before speaking. "Before I can answer that, there is something you must know... I love you, Demetria. You are my only grandchild, _my_ only remaining family... There isn't a thing on this earth that I wouldn't do in order to keep you safe."

"Why don't I like where this is going...?" They were such kind words and yet, the horrible knot in my stomach made me hear them as nothing more than an excuse for whatever Grandad was about to tell me he'd done.

"Once upon a time, as it were, Aiden was my pride and joy," he began. "He was exactly what you are to me now — my world, my very reason for living. His mother — your grandmother — Evelyn, passed just moments after he was born...so it was always just the two of us. I wanted for him to attend Durmstrang, but he insisted on going to Hogwarts like his mother... He was sorted into Slytherin but, from what he told me, he seemed to be friendly with everyone, probably because everyone loved to watch him play Quidditch."

Grandad smiled fondly at the memory, and that was when I noticed I had been smiling already.

"He became the Captain for Slytherin's team, of course, and...well, somewhere around his sixth year, he began dating your mother," he continued. "Lucy White — Gryffindor."

I couldn't remember if Grandad had told me that both of my parents had been Slytherins, or if I'd just assumed it...but hearing that my mother wasn't, didn't surprise me all that much.

"It was also around this time that... Well, Aiden's housemates were all discussing joining the...family business," He didn't need to say 'Death Eaters' for me to know what he was talking about. "They'd all gone to the gatherings and...word had gotten around that Harris was a wealthy, pure-blood name...very renowned, especially in parts of Bulgaria. Our family had powerful witches and wizards with no record of associating with anyone who could potentially _taint_ the bloodline... But we weren't supporters."

Grandad spoke softer then.

"Aiden's mates began telling him that he was being...asked for by You-Know-Who, himself. Your father came to me with this immediately and...when I told him to simply ignore them, we began receiving threats. I will not go into detail," he told me, sternly. "Eventually, in an effort to protect Aiden, I offered to take his place. I was not at all proud, but it needed to be done, and it seemed to satisfy... _him_...for the time being. After your father signed on with the Tornados, graduated school, and married your mother...they demanded his allegiance once again, but he continuily refused. He was too stubborn to see that the sacrifice needed to be made...and so one night, about a year after you were born, he was away at a Quidditch tournament and...you and Lucy were visited by one of _his_ followers."

I immediately thought back to the dream I had, not long ago...

"It was true," was all I could manage to say for a moment.

"What was true?" Grandad asked.

"I thought it was just a dream..." I said, still distracted. "It was a Death Eater —" Grandad tried to quiet me, but the pub was far too crowded for anyone to hear what I'd said. "— he came for me and when my mother tried to protect me, he killed her."

I thought Grandad might've been a bit surprised to hear that I knew that, but he was far too upset, I s'pose. All that I could detect in his once-vibrantly green eyes was devastation. Finally, he nodded.

"I never found out which of them it was that did it... No one would tell me, not even Lucius, though I suspect he was trying to keep me from doing something... _stupid_ ," He spat out the word in a way which told me that perhaps Lucius, himself, had used it and Grandad didn't agree; as though he thought it was ridiculous that avenging your son could be considered stupid. "You were left unharmed, and Aiden was informed of Lucy's passing and came home straight away. He agreed to join...but he grew stubborn once again when you were brought back into the question... And so, two months after your mother...Aiden sacrificed himself, and they...killed him, as well...

"Demetria, I had no choice but to raise you in this manner —"

"You always have a choice," I said shortly. I thought I would be in some sort of shock after finally hearing the story of my parents, but all I really felt was anger. "Not everyone decides to take the coward's way out."

"Your life was at stake, as was mine," Grandad said in a scolding way. "You don't think I tried to refuse? They killed my brother — It would've been selfish to continue that way — I had to give in!" He began raising his voice in order to be heard above the pub's constant buzz, but also because he was growing visibly upset with me.

"Alright, fine, y'know what, maybe that _was_ the best decision," I said it, but I wasn't entirely sure yet if I believed it. I'd only just received this large amount of information, and to process it and decide how I felt about it right then and there felt sort of impossible. "but d'you know what _wasn't_? Lying to me about it my entire life!"

"I know I should've told you the truth, but I was waiting for the right time and...when you would be old enough to understand, but it just seemed as though that time never came and —"

"That time never came or you just never wanted it to?!"

"What d'you want me to say, Demetria?" he said, pleadingly. "I apologize sincerely and truly from the bottom of my heart, but I made a mistake a long time ago and — Yes, at the time, it was much easier to simply say that this was what your parents wanted and it was expected of you to follow in the Harris footsteps."

"But you never told me the truth!" I persisted. "And if I hadn't asked, I don't reckon you ever would've."

Grandad took a pause...and I knew I was right.

"Demetria, please —"

"No," I told him, darkly, standing up. "I've heard enough... Goodbye, Grandad."

And with that, I left. I made my way back to Hogwarts using the secret tunnel passageway which Ginny and I once used, and tried my very best not to cry. I wasn't even entirely sure why I wanted to...I wasn't sure of anything at that time. Sure, I finally had the answers I'd always been longing for, but they brought me no clarity, only more confusion. I couldn't decipher how I felt... I knew I was feeling betrayed and hurt, but part of me could also understand why Grandad didn't tell me...and why he would want to put off _ever_ telling me... I was also having trouble deciding whether or not I could forgive him...

* * *

 _Thank you so much for the overwhelmingly positive response to my update! I didn't realize how many people still cared about this story, but I will definitely keep updating!_


	14. Chapter 13: The Selkie's Treasure

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

 _The Selkie's Treasure_

:.:.:

I was very thankful that none of the blokes asked me about the meeting with my granddad. In fact, with the second task approaching so quickly, they didn't seem to talk about much else, especially Viktor. Being that he now basically feared for my safety around the Black Lake, he absolutely insisted that I stay away and try to find another place to practice.

"And where d'you propose I do it? A puddle?" I teased.

"It does not haff to be in water," Grigor suggested. "You could simply Transfigure into a land creature."

"I dunno, I reckon she needs to practice turning into _exactly_ the type of creature she needs to be," offered Finn.

"Finn is correct," Viktor agreed. "That vould be best."

"Alright, well you're the one who's studied _Hogwarts: A History_ ," I said to Finn. "Is there a secret swimming pool we don't know about?"

Viktor, Grigor, and I sort of chuckled at that, but Finn was actually looking rather deep in thought.

"Finn...?" I said, cautiously.

He cracked a sly grin. "I reckon I might just know the perfect spot," he told us. "...As long as no one here is opposed to breaking curfew."

Finn, Grigor, and I all looked to Viktor.

"Vhat?" he asked, incredulously.

"Just making sure you haven't spent _too_ much time with Hermione," I teased; Finn and Grigor chuckled, while Viktor was busy grinning like a fool. I thought it safe to assume their little Hogsmeade date had brought them closer.

"So, Finn, vhat is this place?" Grigor inquired, getting us back on track.

A slight pause for suspense, and then he revealed it: "A bathroom."

Grigor gave a laugh, while Viktor and I were sort of speechless for a moment.

"I am afraid ve are going to need a bigger space than the sink," said Viktor.

"Trust me, mates, there's plenty of space," Finn assured us, his proud grin never faltering. "This isn't just any bathroom — it's the prefects' bathroom, and it's got a bath tub the size of a swimming pool."

"You're kidding, the _prefects'_ bathroom?" I parroted.

"Yeah, why?" Finn's confidence began to waver.

"It does not sound like it is open to everyone," Viktor observed, skeptically.

"It's not! You need a password!" I was so excited because... Well, I don't really know why! It was just such a strange coincidence.

"Alright, that's one ickle detail I overlooked," Finn despairingly admitted. "You don't have to be so —"

"No, this works out perfectly!" I fervently told them.

"Are you going to share vith us vhat you know...?" asked Viktor, clearly finding amusement in my over zealous responses.

" _Well_ it just so happens that, not too long ago, I received the password to said bathroom," I explained, sporting Finn's little smirk.

"Ah, right, forgot Prince Charming's a prefect," said Finn, in jest. "So, what, he just, all of a sudden, decided to give you this random password?"

That was when my own sly grin faltered, because I realized I hadn't told the blokes the news yet. "Well, er, he said it was a perk of...y'know...dating him..."

Two Bulgarian "Vhat"s and a Scottish "What" all overlapped.

"Vhen did this happen?!" Grigor asked. He didn't seem surprised, though, more excited; they all did.

"Just a few days ago," I assured them. "I reckon the same day he visited me in the hospital wing."

"It's about time!" Finn eagerly exclaimed. "Probably would've taken even longer if I hadn't intervened..."

"I'm sorry, _intervened_?" I said in disbelief.

"Remember your first kiss with Pretty Boy?" he asked, though he already knew my answer. After all, how could I forget? But I also distinctly remembered someone pushing me into him in the first place.

"That was _you_?" Finn smirked in reply. "On _purpose_?"

"Actually, the first time _was_ an accident," he defended. "I made Grig laugh and he knocked me right into you two lovebirds."

"I do not know my own strength," Grigor joked, flexing his biceps.

"The second time, I just couldn't stand the anticipation," admitted Finn. I laughed along with the blokes, but I also playfully swatted at Finn's arm for knocking into me on purpose. After all, he hadn't exactly been gentle about it. "Well, it all worked out! Isn't this just peachy? You and Diggory, me and Daphne —"

Two more Bulgarian "Vhat"s and, this time, a British "What" ensued.

"Did I not mention that?" said Finn, innocently.

"Vhen did _this_ happen?!" Grigor was the one to ask again, only this time — much like Viktor and I — he was surprised.

"Er, about a month ago...?"

We emitted three more exclaims of disbelief in our respective accents, but were, coincidentally, cut off by the bell sounding throughout the grounds, indicating dinner.

"Saved by the bell!" Finn exclaimed before taking off toward the castle.

"I do not think so, Archer!" Viktor called out, the rest of us racing after him.

"Vhy do you not sit with her in the Great Hall?" Grigor was the first to ask when we caught up.

"Or take her to Hogsmeade?" inquired Viktor, next.

"Or spend time with her at all, really?" And then I realized something else. "You haven't even officially introduced her to us!"

"That's all because we're not official," Finn finally gave his reply, and very defensively. "We're not exactly _dating_ , y'know, it's more like...Vik and Hermione."

"You certainly made it sound rather official," I reminded him.

We were about to enter the Great Hall, but Finn stopped us. "Just don't mention it, all right? It's not a _secret_ but...it's no one's business, we're just...having fun, like you and Cedric."

"What d'you mean?" I asked, growing sort of concerned.

"Well things are all well and good _now_ , but what happens in a few months when the tournament's over and we go back to Durmstrang?" said Finn, airily, as though it were obvious. "This isn't anything serious, it's just a casual —"

I wasn't sure why Viktor and Grigor nudged Finn in the ribs to shut him up, until I realized my face had fallen into a hopeless frown.

"But that's just how Daphne and I see it!" Finn immediately attempted to backtrack. "That's not necessarily the case for —"

"You _just_ said 'like you and Cedric'," I, dismally, reminded.

"Come, Demi, let us eat," Viktor offered, gently taking my hand and ushering me toward the entrance.

Not everyone was seated yet, people still making their way into the Hall, but I was able to slip out of Viktor's grasp and make a bee-line for the Hufflepuff table, almost immediately locating who I was looking for.

"Cedric," I said, my voice coming out rather uneven. "d'you have a second?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he told me, looking incredibly concerned.

He told his mates he'd be right back and then walked with me, hand-in-hand, out of the Great Hall.

"What's wrong?" Cedric asked me as soon as we'd rounded the corner out of the Hall.

"What if we've just made a mistake?" automatically jumped out of my mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, whole-heartedly, dropping my hand. "I didn't know you wanted to keep it quiet."

I wasn't sure what he meant until it hit me that we hadn't exactly gone public yet and, though the Hall was still sort of chaotic, enough people had found seats so that nearly everyone had a front-row seat to Cedric and I holding hands. I knew how quickly news traveled around this castle — whoever didn't already see we were dating, would know before the house-elves served dessert.

"What? No, it's not that," I assured him; he physically relaxed upon hearing that. "It's just... What if we didn't think this through? What happens when I go back to Durmstrang?"

I sort of expected him to appear saddened in some way, like I was, but he didn't seem phased at all. " _That's_ what this is about?" he said. "Demetria, that's four months away."

 _You're right, we may not even make it that long_ ,I thought darkly, only half-joking. This was, after all, the first time I realized if I was to become a Death Eater, Cedric and I wouldn't last anyway. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing anymore...but I didn't care. When I looked up and saw Cedric smiling at me, I couldn't think about things like that. All I could focus on was the present, how I was feeling right then and there... So I smiled back at him.

"You're right," I told him. "I shouldn't worry about that now."

"I wouldn't worry at all, if I were you," he sweetly said, placing his hand on the side of my face.

"So you don't think this is...casual?" I couldn't help feeling sheepish for asking.

He shook his head. "Do you?"

"No, it was just something Finn said, I dunno, I'm sorry," I rushed out.

Cedric leaned down and placed a quick kiss on my lips. "Nothing to be sorry for," he insisted. "I'll see you."

"Yeah, see you," I said, the two of us making our way back into the Hall and splitting up to go to our separate tables.

"You and Diggory?" said Adrian as soon as I dropped into my usual spot at the Slytherin table. He appeared sort of crestfallen.

"Yeah," was all I said with a small smile. I felt bad... I didn't realize I'd disappointed him. It was bad enough I'd done the same to George... Speaking of, I craned my neck in order to see catch a glimpse of him over at the Gryffindor table, but when I spotted him, he actually looked okay. And I thought maybe that was just because Fred had taken his mind off of it, but both twins caught sight of me and gave me a thumbs-up, Fred actually emitting a wolf-whistle. I couldn't help but laugh, but the smile remained because I was glad George seemed to be getting over me.

"Not everyone is as thrilled," Finn whispered beside me, nodding his head in a different direction. I followed it over to the Ravenclaw table where a familiar-looking, oriental girl with shiny dark hair was glaring daggers at me. "That's Cho Chang."

The name rang a bell, but it took me a moment. Although, once I pieced it together, that bell turned into an alarm blaring in my head. Cho Chang — Cedric's date to the Yule Ball and the bird he'd turned down at the last Hogsmeade trip because he had feelings for me...

"Shite."

I could feel Cho's glare intensify on me for the remainder of dinner. Despite my greatest efforts to shake the feeling and chat with my mates, I just couldn't. And I wasn't afraid or uncomfortable, really... I was annoyed. Cedric had made it very clear to me ( _and_ to Cho, herself) that the two of them never dated, and yet, this bird was practically burning a hole right through me for something that was not even my fault!

However, when my Durmstrang blokes and I returned to the ship, Cho was out of sight and therefore, luckily, out of mind. By the time Viktor and I decided it was late enough to sneak through the castle, she was the furthest thing from my mind.

"Oi! You forgot us!" Finn whispered fiercely, he and Grigor joining Vik and I above deck.

"Vhy do you two need to come?" Viktor asked.

"Well I'm the one who told you about the bathroom —"

"And I am alvays left out," Grigor instantly defended with a sad, puppy-dog face.

"No you're not, Grig," I chuckled.

"Okay, perhaps not, but I vish to see this bathroom," he insisted.

"It vill be hard enough sneaking _two_ people around, but _four_...?" Viktor's tone kind of trailed off to imply that it would be impossible; Finn and Grigor didn't notice or didn't care.

"Fine, let's just get moving," I said finitely, Viktor and I heading down the ramp first. "But you two are on your own if you get caught."

I'd never had a run-in with Peeves or Filch whenever I snuck around Hogwarts by myself, but there was something about the added risk of three other people which gave me a bad feeling that night could've been the night one of them was out for a stroll. Thankfully, we were able to follow Cedric's directions without any sort of detours or distractions. When we came to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, I whispered the password, "Pine fresh," and we were free to enter.

My first thought was that it certainly _was_ a perk. Not only did it beat the utilities on the ship, but it had to be the most luxurious bathroom in the entire castle. It was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including the empty, rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor, just as Finn described. About a hundred golden taps stood all around its edges, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle. There was even a diving board! Long white linen curtains hung at the windows; a large pile of fluffy white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed painting on the wall. It featured a blonde morska sirena — nothing like the awful selkie I would have to change into — but an actual, beautiful, mermaid, fast asleep on a rock, long hair over her face.

"Svyat laĭna..." breathed Grigor. **(** _ **Holy shit**_ **)**

"And to think, we almost missed this," said Finn to Grigor, the two high-fiving.

"This vas your first and last time," Viktor told them, sternly. "Ve vere lucky no vun caught us tonight."

But Finn and Grigor didn't really appear to even be listening, the two of them both clearly far more interested in playing around with the taps, each one carrying different sorts of bubble bath. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of bludgers; another poured thick, ice-white foam; a third sent heavenly perfumed purple clouds hovering over the water's surface.

"Why don't you two keep watch?" I suggested once the pool was filled with hot water, foam, and bubbles, which actually took a very short time considering its size.

It seemed as though they might've protested, but after one glance at Viktor's authoritative expression, they reluctantly agreed. The second I turned to watch them, Viktor dove into the pool from off the diving board. Pivoting back around, I watched him resurface, smiling.

"Neka da zapochnem, sestra." **(** _ **Let's start, sister**_ **)**

Self-transfiguring proved to be a rather arduous task. I caught on quick enough, but there was a lot of fine-tuning which needed to be done in order to absolutely perfect it. After all, the last thing any of us wanted was for me to get even the tiniest part of it wrong and have something awful happen while I was down in the lake. But my fear continued to decrease throughout each of my training sessions with Viktor. February twenty-fourth was the following week and we snuck into the prefects' bathroom every night in order to practice...even on the eighteenth, which was my fifteenth birthday, though he _did_ end the session about ten minutes early. Vik definitely was a tough coach, but I'd already known that from being on his Quidditch team back at school, so I also knew that it would undoubtedly bring success. Though I was actually a bit surprised that the night before the second task, Viktor told me there wouldn't be a training session.

"You are ready, Demi," he assured me, myself and the usual trio hanging out on the ship's deck. "Besides, you should not be sneaking around so late the night before. You vill need your rest."

"D'you reckon you'll even be able to sleep?" Finn asked me, genuinely concerned.

"I think so," I honestly told him. "I'm not nearly as nervous as I was before... I dunno, I reckon Vik's right. I've got it down, I just have no idea what I'll have to get."

And up until I said it, I'd completely forgotten that the whole point of the task was to recover whatever the merpeople had taken. The only thing that came to mind was that locket... and true, I had no idea where it was but... What if someone had taken it and kept it to be used during the task? If that were the case, Finn could've been the only one to do it. He was, after all, the only one who, not only knew what it meant to me, but even knew that it existed. Well, him and that Trelawney woman...although she only knew about it after it had disappeared...

"I am rather curious to find out vhat you vill haff to get, as vell," said Grigor, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Don't dwell on it," Finn advised, mainly to me. "It won't do you any good."

"No, I know, you're — Draco?"

"Actually I'm Finnick but, y'know, whatever tickles your fancy," teased Finn.

"Evening, gents, Demetria," said Draco, boarding the ship. Viktor, Finn, and Grigor all turned to notice the white-blonde-haired bloke which I'd spotted first.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" I curiously inquired.

"Finally come to accept my challenge of Exploding Snap?" asked Grigor, feigning arrogance. "I vill haff you know I haff improved my game since ve last played."

Ever since I'd beaten Grigor at every game of Exploding Snap we played on the journey to Hogwarts, he was constantly trying to find new opponents; Draco had been one of them just the other day.

"Sorry, not tonight, I'm afraid," he said. "I was actually looking for Finn."

"Me? Why?" asked Finn, himself.

"One of the professors would like to see you," he explained.

"Which one?" I inquired.

"McGonagall."

"Is that not the vun who gave you a detention, Demi?" Viktor asked me, rather disapprovingly.

"Whoa, why am I the only one getting detention?" said Finn, mildly outraged.

"I doubt you're getting a detention," I assured him, although I had absolutely no idea whether or not it was true.

"I dunno what it's about, she just said she wanted me to bring you to her office," said Draco. "It didn't seem like it was for a reward or anything, though. She was looking rather grim."

"All right, well best to get this over with, then," Finn said, admitting defeat. "Wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" chorused Viktor, Grigor, and I as we watched Draco and Finn leave the ship.

"Does anyvun else vonder if Finn is hiding something?" Grigor cautiously asked after a moment.

Both blokes rested their gazes upon me, Viktor not even answering. "What're you on about? Just because he didn't mention Daphne to us?"

"Vell...yes...and now he has gotten into trouble —"

"We don't know for sure that's what happened," I remind him, growing rather offended.

"I-I know, but —"

"Ve do not know much about him, sestra, and ve are all so close; ve haff been like family for years," Viktor quickly added, clearly trying to calm me.

"You blokes don't like Finn?" I said, vexed.

Both of them immediately assured me that they did.

"You don't trust him, then?"

"Do _you_?" Viktor asked me, and not in a way which suggested that I shouldn't; he genuinely wanted to know.

"I do," I told them whole-heartedly.

"Then I do too, honestly," declared Viktor. "Obeshtavam ti." **(** _ **I promise you**_ **)**

"So do I, Demetria, I apologize," Grigor sincerely said. "Viktor is right, ve are a family and —"

"No, I understand, you don't need to apologize," I insisted. "I just sort of brought Finn in and...you were both very welcoming, but you haven't gotten to know him like I have."

"I do not think I vant to 'get to know him like _you_ haff'," teased Grigor in a suggestive tone.

"Oh, shove off, you tosspot," I joked back, playfully shoving him; we all laughed. "Finn and I have always been strictly platonic, just like you and I."

"Ve vere not so platonic vhen you tried to kiss me the night ve first met!" he exclaimed.

"Vhat?" said Viktor, at once, genuinely confused.

"Grig, _you_ tried to kiss _me_ ," I reminded him with a smirk.

"Keep telling yourself that." He playfully winked.

"Che ima poveche smisŭl," said Viktor, understanding. **(** _ **That makes more sense**_ **)** "Vell, it is getting late. Demetria, you should try and get some sleep."

"But I want to know why McGonagall wanted to see Fiiiiinn," I obnoxiously whined.

"You vill just haff to vait until morning," he told me, laughing.

So the three of us made our way below deck and over to our bunk beds, trying to move as soundlessly as possible because some of our fellow classmates were already asleep.

"Az vi obicham i dvete," I said, softly, once we'd all changed into our pajamas. **(** _ **I love you both**_ **)**

"Obichame te," said Grigor, the two of us exchanging kisses on the cheek. "Leka nosht." **(** _ **We love you. Goodnight**_ **)**

Viktor and I did the same. "Leka nosht, sestra."

I climbed up to the top bunk of the bed Viktor and I shared and considered maybe staying up until Finn got back, but unfortunately — or perhaps _fortunately_ — I was fast asleep just moments after my head hit the pillow...though it didn't last.

–

 _I'm underwater and I have no idea where. All I know is that I'm swimming to the surface, but every time I think I get close, more distance appears. I'm struggling, fighting harder and harder, but it's not enough and I'm beginning to give up. But just when I think I've given my final push, I see a hand reaching through the water from the surface. I immediately grab it and it pulls me up, completely out of the water. I look around and see I'm in the pool of the prefects' bathroom, and the hand belongs to the blonde mermaid from the golden-framed painting. But all of a sudden, she hurls me back into the pool. I scream as I continue to free fall, cutting through the water as though it isn't even there. Finally, my body collides with something hard; I've hit the bottom...but there's no water here. I'm staring up at the bottom of the pool, watching the lights shine through and dance on the water, but I'm able to breathe in air._

 _"Demetria," says a voice I instantly recognize as my mother's. And sure enough, when I sit up and turn around, she's right in front of me, a golden glow engulfing her._

 _"Mum, what's going on?" My voice sounds strained, my tone urgent, because we're standing in a completely open white space, underneath the swimming pool and all of its foamy water._

 _"We don't have much time, you can't stay," she tells me with just as much urgency._

 _But suddenly, I no longer care where I am and what's happening, all I can focus on is the fact that my mother is standing before me, so close I could reach out and touch her...or hug her... I move toward her and do so._

 _"I miss you, Mum," I say. "I miss you and Dad so much."_

 _"Oh, sweetheart, we miss you too, but we're so proud of you," she says, sincerely, before pulling back and holding my face in her hands. "But it's not your time yet."_

 _"I lost your locket, I dunno what happened to it," I inform her. "I don't even know what it means. What is this Light with a capital L?"_

 _"Demetria, you'll have all the answers in due time," she assures me, patiently. "But for now, I need you to fight."_

 _"What d'you mean?"_

 _"They're going to hurt you_ — _"_

 _"They, who?!"_

 _"_ — _and you'll be back here, but you can't stay."_

 _Just then, I can feel the mermaid's hand grab hold of mine and begin to pull me up and away._

 _"No! Mum!" I shout, trying to break free of the mermaid's hold but to no avail._

 _"You can't stay, Demetria," Mum tells me, calmly._

 _I continue to scream for her even as I'm pulled back through the water which begins to fill my mouth. Soon, no sound comes out, only bubbles, and just when I think I'm about to reach the surface_ —

–

I woke up. My body catapulted into an upright position, my heart pounding and my breathing rapid and uneven. I could detect someone in the darkness hovering over my bunk from the ladder, and though I expected it to be Finn, I was wrong.

"Demi, are you all right?" Viktor whispered.

"Yeah, I just —" And that's when I felt it: something small and cold in my clenched fist. I opened it up and found my mother's silver, oval-shaped, inscribed locket. "I need to talk to Finn."

"Surely it can vait until tomorrow..." he said, disapprovingly.

"It'll just take a second and then I promise I'll go right back to bed," I assured him, fervently.

Viktor gave a sigh of defeat and made his way back down the small ladder, but he reappeared just a moment after. "Finn is not back," he informed me, sounding rather confused.

"Are you sure? McGonagall just wanted to talk..." I said. "It's been hours."

" _Lumos!_ " said Viktor, softly, shining his wand on Finn and Grigor's bunk. Sure enough, Finn's top bunk was empty, Grigor fast asleep underneath. " _Nox!_ "

"Where the hell is he?" I was beginning to panic.

"I am sure he is fine, probably just vith Daphne," Viktor reasoned.

"Yeah...Yeah, you're probably right..." I was talking, mainly, to myself.

"Demetria, do not let this distract you," he told me. "Go back to sleep and you vill see Finn in the morning before the task, I vill make sure of it."

I tried my very best to believe Viktor, but I couldn't seem to fall back asleep after that. Part of me didn't _want_ to go back to sleep. What if I had another dream that took the locket away from me again? What if this time I never got it back? And what was my mother talking about? Had it just been one of those random dreams that didn't really mean anything, or was there real meaning to it? Eventually, instead of keeping my mind busy and awake, these thoughts lulled me to sleep but, once again, not for long...at least not long _enough_.

"Sestra," came Viktor, gently rocking me. "I haff let you sleep as long as I can. You must get ready."

I sat up and immediately checked for the locket, beginning to worry when it wasn't in either of my hands; I found it around my neck instead.

"Did Finn come back?" I asked, getting down from my bunk.

"I am afraid not, but I am sure he and Daphne haff made their vay to the stands already." Viktor continued to speak so optimistically that I was sure it was only to keep me from having a panic attack before the task. I couldn't say I blamed him, though.

He left me to get ready, which didn't take long, but I knew that he must've left me time for the speech which was undoubtedly waiting for me above deck from Karkaroff. And, sure enough, as I emerged from below, much like before the first task, I was greeted by clapping and cheering from my Durmstrang brothers. Each of them wished me good luck as I made my way through the small crowd, except Nikolai and his crony, Oskar, both standing off to the side and clapping only to be polite. Grigor wrapped me up in an enormous hug, lifting me off my feet, and Viktor planted a heartfelt kiss on my forehead.

"Demetria, you have already proved you deserve to be in this tournament, I would say, more than anyone else," Karkaroff began when I reached him, hands proudly resting on my shoulders. "Now...how about earning first place once again for your brothers?!"

The blokes applauded and shouted again before Karkaroff started off the chant.

"Who is our champion?!"

"HARRIS!"

That happened a few more times, naturally, you know the drill... Anyway, I'd made my way down to the docks in a bit of a hurry, not because I was late or even because I was far away, I was just hoping to find Finn before the second task started up, though that was proving to be practically impossible. The seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were nearly packed to the bursting point, and I couldn't seem to spot Finn in any of them. Although people were still making their way down to the lake, I was truly beginning to feel like he wasn't going to show...

"All right, love?" came Cedric, swooping in to kiss my cheek.

I hadn't even been paying much attention to anything except the stands, but I found myself near the gold-draped judges table, Cedric and Fleur both nearby.

"I s'pose... Just a bit anxious," I confessed, looking back and forth between Cedric and the crowd. That was when I spotted Daphne. "Sorry! I'll just be a second!"

I left Cedric standing there, rather confused, as I made my way toward the brunette Slytherin girl, seated in just the second row.

"Hi, you're Daphne Greengrass, right?" I sort of had to shout in order to be heard above the crowd.

I thought she might've been a bit taken aback, but she enthusiastically replied with, "Yeah, hi! It's so nice to actually meet you!"

"You too!" I told her, honestly. "I was just wondering if you'd seen Finn, is he with you?"

That was when her smile began to falter and my stomach dropped. "No, sorry, I haven't seen him," she told me. "I'm here with my roommates." She motioned to the girls sitting around her, one of them being that dreadful Pansy bird.

"Oh, never mind, I reckon that's him over there!" I said airily, pointing off in some random direction. After all, I didn't want to worry her...at least not yet... I didn't know what was going on yet. I was sure Finn had a perfectly good reason for not coming back to the ship the previous night. "Thanks, anyway, I'll see you around!"

"Yeah, see you! Good luck!" she beamed.

Once I'd returned to the judges table, there wasn't really any time for Cedric to question me on what had just happened, because we'd all suddenly spotted Harry on the other side of the lake, sprinting toward us.

"I'm...here..." he panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes. Had it not been for my tightly wound nerves, I probably would've snickered at her outraged expression.

"Where have you been?" came the bossy, disapproving voice of Percy Weasley. "The task's about to start!"

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry. "Let him catch his breath!"

My hands began, absentmindedly, fiddling with the locket and I couldn't seem to pay attention to much of anything else except the crowd. I just kept hoping Finn's face would suddenly pop up and I could relax but, unfortunately, Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing us along the bank at intervals of ten feet; I was in between Harry and Cedric. This was it.

I stared down at the water and hoped I had time to transform once I hit the water. Though I didn't remember being dragged under the last time I was in the lake, I knew I probably didn't have very long. But once I Transfigured, I would be safe...right? I had to calm down and focus if I wanted the Transfiguring to even happen, though. I closed my eyes for a moment and pretended I was back in the prefects' bathroom with Viktor. This was just another training session.

" _Sonorus!_ " I heard Ludo Bagman cast upon his voice so it boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . _three_!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; I didn't pay any attention to what the other champions were doing, and I certainly didn't dare to check the stands again. After taking a few steps into the freezing water, I began my transformation, exactly the way Viktor and I had practiced. All at once, my entire body disappeared below the surface, not because I'd been dragged, but because I dove...but not before I heard a few gasps from the crowd. I was a selkie.

The icy water didn't bother me much when I was human, but it certainly didn't affect me at all once I had Transfigured, quite successfully, might I add. I knew that the lake was dark, practically pitch-black, so the other champions would most likely be having a hard time with seeing ten feet in front of them, but I, as a selkie, was able to see much more. I continued breathing in the frigid waters and calmly exhaling, diving a bit deeper as I cut forward through the water. I wasn't entirely sure where I was going or what I was even supposed to be looking for; I could only hope that I would knew when I found it.

Continuing forward, through rippling, tangled black weed and wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones, didn't seem to be the right way to go, so I began swimming at a bit of a diagonal, but even that seemed hopeless after a while. This lake was bloody enormous... Were we expected to scour every inch of it?

I realized I was probably just being impatient... After all, the odds of stumbling upon whatever I was looking for within the first ten minutes were slim, so I pressed on, taking more of a turn and careful to avoid the weeds below. And that was when I heard it...

 _". . . your time's half gone, so tarry not_

 _Lest what you seek stays here to rot . . ."_

That was it! I continued on, though careful not to rush and draw attention to myself. After all, I wasn't a champion out to reclaim whatever was taken from me, I was a selkie. In the distance, I could detect a large rock, and upon closer inspection, I saw it had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing, what I assumed was, the giant squid. So it _was_ real... I was suddenly very thankful that with all of my careless swimming about, I hadn't run into it...not yet, anyway...

The mersong continued and I followed it until I happened upon an entire cluster of selkies, all with the same grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair as me; yellow eyes, broken teeth, silver fish tails, exactly what I'd seen in the library, and I blended right in. The selkies paid me no mind as I made my way through, what appeared to be, their dwellings. Further still, I came upon a whole crowd of selkies floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of them was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic selkie hewn from a boulder, and Harry was already there, swimming towards it. It looked as though four selkies were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson. Wait, those weren't selkies... Oh my Godric, they were people! And one was Finn!

I physically stopped swimming and just floated there, frozen in one spot. They'd taken our friends?! How could they do this?! Surely, no actual harm would come to them...right? Bloody hell, I didn't know how I could possibly free Finn and still make it out undetected. I began scanning the area for maybe a way to cause a distraction, and that's when I took notice of the three other people tied there as well. They all appeared to be in some kind of deep sleep, heads lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles repeatedly issuing from their mouths.

Ron Weasley was there beside Finn, obviously for Harry to rescue, and a young girl, who looked no older than eight, had the same silvery hair as Fleur, so I was nearly positive that was her sister... But for Cedric, they'd given him Cho Chang to rescue. I found it odd for just a split second, but I remembered they probably appeared close considering they were dates to the Yule Ball.

I quickly swam over and observed the ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. Taking a quick glance around, it didn't seem as though any of the selkies really cared about what I was doing. It clearly had nothing to do with the fact that I was disguised as one of them, because Harry was as close as I was and they didn't do a thing about that either. And speaking of Harry, I noticed he managed to give himself gills.

I decided then that it was highly unlikely that any of these people were in any real danger, considering this task was presumably handled by McGonagall, one of the most reasonable people at this school.

Harry had retrieved a rather jagged rock from the lake's bottom and began hacking at the ropes which binded Ron. I followed suit and dove to the bottom to find my own sharpened rock, but when I returned to the statue, Ron was freed and Harry had raised the jagged rock to Finn's binds.

At once, several pairs of gray selkie hands seized him. Half a dozen of them were pulling him away, shaking their green-haired heads and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others..."

Harry was clearly trying to shout something, but nothing except bubbles came out of his mouth.

"Your task is to retrieve your own friend...leave the others..."

I used the distraction to saw at Finn's ropes before any of the others could stop me, although just before he was free, one of them did...

"What are you doing?!"

I froze and turned to them, but my response was not directed at the selkie. I looked at Harry, who was eyeing me very cautiously. "They're not in any real danger," I assured him, though the voice that came from my mouth was obviously not my own. It was very harsh and croaky. "They'll be fine."

I made the final cut in Finn's rope and freed him. The selkies released their grip on Harry and grabbed me instead.

"No, it's okay! I'm a champion!" I assured them, but they didn't appear to believe me. That was, until one of them caught sight of my locket.

"Light," was all the selkie said.

There was a split second of quiet and stillness — a calm before the storm, if you will — because what came after, was definitely a storm.

They began dragging me down to the bottom of the lake, _dragging_ me, just like what had happened the last time! These Godric-damned selkies were the danger that kept me from practicing in this lake! They were screeching animatedly and when they finally pinned me down against the lake's floor, some released me in order to jab me with their spears. The screams of pain that came out of my mouth were unlike anything I'd ever heard. It sounded more like the shrieking they continued to do, which was probably why Harry didn't come to try and save me.

These selkies clearly weren't aiming to kill me, or at least they weren't _yet_. Their spears never pierced an organ or reached all the way through me to the other side, they just continued to torture me with pricks all over my body. I wasn't sure why until I realized I'd lost my concentration. Transfiguring, particularly _self_ -transfiguring, requires a certain amount of constant focus... Focus, which I had just lost.

Suddenly, it was me, Demetria, a human, writhing and wriggling against the bottom of the lake. But as soon as they saw it was me, the selkies began dragging me again, except this time, it was towards something. I tried my best to hold my breath for as long as I could, but when one of them pierced their spear into my side, I let out a cry of pain, though only bubbles were emitted. The frigid water was beginning to fill my lungs, so much so that I imagined water flowing in and out of every part of my body, which was what it felt like. I was panicking, I was kicking and twisting every way I could; every time, it earned me another stab in the same spot; the lake was definitely dark to me now but the reason I couldn't see anything was because my vision grew blurred, my eyes closing. I wasn't sure how much longer I would be awake, or even alive, but the selkies continued to screech as they stopped swimming and held me in place before what appeared to be a rather giant cave...and something even larger was coming out. The selkies released me and left me to float to the bottom of the lake; they left me to whatever this creature was. There was no fight left in me, I couldn't even keep my eyes open...

"Demetria."

I heard someone saying my name over and over...

"Demetria, you can't stay here." It was my mum.

"It's not your time yet."

I opened my eyes. I was back in the white, empty space underneath the swimming pool in the prefects' bathroom. Getting to my feet and turning around, my mother was there, once again, with a golden glow surrounding her.

"Mum," I said, voice strained. I felt so weak but I began walking toward her. "Mum, I'm so tired..."

"Demetria, fight," she encouraged, backing away.

"I want to be with you," I told her, near-tears. "I miss you so much."

Someone appeared then, beside my mother. "We miss you too."

"Dad! It's you!" I forced out; it felt as though my throat was closing up. I tried to run, but it hurt too much, so I continued trying to limp over. Though, every step I took toward them, they moved farther and farther away.

"Please, Tri," my dad said, softly. That was a nickname I hadn't heard in years...

"Grandad doesn't call me Tria anymore," I told them, my voice sounding very low and rough. "It makes him too sad...'cause you used to..."

Out of no where, a wall appeared and my parents were backed against it.

"You can still fight!" Mum told me, fervently.

"I can't," I practically whispered. "I love you."

I was so close . . . nearly there . . . I reached my arms out around both of my parents and closed the final gap between us.

"I'm cold..." I murmured.

My head dropped and I could see a golden glow surrounding my feet and slowly beginning to rise. And though it looked like it should've been warm...it was very cold. It climbed up my legs, leaving them weak and freezing...

"Demetria!" Mum cried out. "Please! You can't stay!"

"C'mon, Tri, fight!" exclaimed Dad. "You can do this!"

"Remember your Light!"

I unwrapped my arms from around my parents as quickly as I could manage, though it was actually incredibly slow, and dropped to my knees, fumbling for the locket around my neck. The glow had reached my waist, as I pried at the clasp. I took one last look up at my parents.

"I love you," I could only mouth, my voice gone.

I opened the locket, a great beam of white light jetting out and blinding me . . .

"We've got a pulse!" someone cried out. "She's alive!"

. . . then I could see again, and I saw...orange... It was the first aid tent. Someone I didn't recognize was hovering over me.

"This is a bloody miracle! You gave us quite a scare, Miss Harris!" the man said. He appeared to be a...mediwizard...

I tried to sit up but was stopped both by the mediwizard and the incredibly sharp pain in my left side. "I wouldn't do that just yet, if I —

"Ne moga da go povyarvam!" Viktor came running in. I'd never seen or heard him like this... He was crying... He helped me up and was careful to gently wrap his arms around me, though the embrace itself was tight. "Tova e neveroyatno! Ti si zhiv! Moyata krasiva sestra, ti si zhiv!" He planted kisses on my head between every sentence. **(** _ **I can not believe it! This is amazing! You're alive! My beautiful sister, you're alive**_ **)**

"What's going on?" I asked. "What happened?"

"We dunno what happened down in the lake," the mediwizard began explaining, Viktor still not releasing me. "but every champion had returned except for you. The hour passed and you were still no where to be seen. Harry Potter and that Cedric fellow dove back in and brought back the other two hostages, a little girl and your friend, 'cept Harry Potter said your friend had already been cut free —"

"Harry said he saw you free me, disguised as a selkie!" Finn came bursting into the tent; he was immediately following by Grigor, both of them also crying.

"We can't have too many in here at once," said the mediwizard. "Mr. Krum, you might want to let her go." Viktor reluctantly released me.

"I s'pose I should handle crowd control. I'm sure one of you blokes can finish the story. Try not to be too long, though, if you wouldn't mind. I'm sure there are plenty of others who'd like to see her."

The mediwizard stepped outside of the tent, Finn and Grigor both automatically wrapping their arms around me.

"Ow!" I cried out, my hand reaching to caress my side. That was when I noticed a rather large bandage in place, there, under my shirt. The blokes immediately backed away.

"Ve are sorry, ve are just so happy!" Grigor gushed.

"Still trying to piece together what happened..." I told them.

"Right! So, Harry said you freed me right after he cut Ron loose and then the selkies starting attacking you for some reason, but he didn't know it was you," Finn continued, though clearly still reeling. "They were about to send a search party in to find you but all of a sudden —"

"Gigant·ski kalmar!" cried out Grigor, fervently. **(** _ **Giant squid**_ **)**

"Yeah, it's actually real!" confirmed Finn, though still in disbelief.

"And docile!" Viktor added.

"It reached its tentacles out of the water and brought you to the shore!" Finn continued. "You were bleeding so much... They rushed you to the tent. Madam Pomfrey kept you stable for as long as she could until the mediwizard arrived. You were barely hanging on, and then...you just..."

"Demetria, you died..." Viktor gravely told me.

I remembered being with my parents, the cold glow swallowing me up...

"I...I actually died?" I said, softly.

"Please, you've got to let me see her!" I could hear Cedric shouting from outside the tent. "That's my girlfriend in there!"

Viktor, Finn, and Grigor all exchanged a significant glance with each other.

"We'll see you later, Dem," Finn said, evidently speaking for all three of the blokes.

"Okay..." My voice sounded distant, even in my own ears.

I thought back to the empty space with my parents, my hand instinctively reaching around my neck for the locket, but it was gone...again. And I hadn't even noticed the trio leave, but I saw Cedric rush in through the tent flaps, and as soon as he did, I completely broke down.

"Oh, Demetria, it's alright, sweetheart," Cedric cooed, instantly by my side, holding me as I wept. "Y'know, I thought _I'd_ be the one crying."

I actually cracked a smile at that. As sad and frustrated and confused as I was, this bloke managed to get a chuckle out of me. He seized the opportunity to release me from his embrace and just look me in the eyes; I noticed he definitely had been crying, his grey orbs still glossy from the tears.

"I know it seems stupid...I mean, I should be happy to be alive — I _am_ happy," I assured him; he held both of my hands in his. "It's just...I saw my parents. They were standing right in front of me and I wanted to be with them, I wanted to hug them... But when I did...I _died_ , I was... _dead_. That was...selfish..."

"Hey, don't talk like that," he told me, but not in a disappointed way...in a very sad way. "You are one of the most selfless people I know, and look! — you came back!"

Another smile escaped from me, until I decided to tell Cedric the other reason I was just crying. "It's not just that," I began, taking a breath. How to explain... "I have absolutely no idea who I am...and I'm starting to think there's something really wrong with me."

"What d'you mean?" Cedric was gravely concerned.

"Those selkies nearly — well, actually — _did_ kill me," I spoke fervently. "They didn't attack anyone else... But when they saw the locket I was wearing, they attacked," And I could see he was about to mention that I wasn't wearing the locket, so I stopped him. "I know I don't have it anymore, but I did... This is something I don't have a logical reason for, and it sounds mad but...it started a few months ago..."

And so I told him. I told him all about the first dream I had where my mother came to me in the graveyard (excluding the Death Eater details, of course. Oh, relax, we weren't _that_ close just yet), and first gave me the locket. I told him about the word Light inscribed on it in Greek and how it disappeared after another dream; how Finn and I went to Trelawney for answers, how the last two times I went into the Black Lake I ended up in the hospital wing; the morska sirena, the flashes of light, absolutely everything I could think of.

"...but now it's gone again, and I have no idea if or when it'll come back," I said. He looked as though he wanted to try and give me answers, but I knew there wasn't much he could say. "Thank you for listening."

"Of course," he said as though it wasn't even a thought. "I just wish there was something I cou —"

I placed my lips on his. "You could help me get down from here."

We grinned at one another and he lifted me, careful not to disturb my battle wound, off of the bed and on to my feet. But when I took the first step toward the tent flap, he stopped me.

"You're sure you want to go out there?" he asked. "It's a rather massive crowd..."

"I'd rather just get it all over with now," I told him, honestly. He nodded, taking me by the arm and helping me walk over.

The mediwizard noticed my exit attempt and turned to speak to me. "Make sure you take it easy, Miss Harris," he advised. "I've never had to perscribe anything for coming back to life, but that gash should heal up as long as you get your rest; no strenuous activity..."

My mouth broke out into another small grin. "Right, thank you so much for everything," I told him, whole-heartedly.

"It wasn't all me — You're a fighter." He grinned and move past Cedric and I into the tent.

As soon as we were on the other side of the tent, that massive crowd began cheering and applauding, and all I could think was: Am I really going to have to talk to every single person? And I did...some of whom I'd never even met before! But I was also approached by people I was rather close with, or at least familiar with. All of my Durmstrang brothers either hugged or high-fived me; even Nikolai gave me a rather cordial handshake. Hermione and Ginny hugged me, both sort of hysterical, Ron and Harry also did, though Harry tried to apologize for not knowing it was me and helping me; I told him not to blame himself. Karkaroff nearly reopened my wound with how tightly he'd held on to me; Draco, Adrian, and my Slytherin acquaintances approached me; Hogwarts professors and students, Beauxbatons students (Fleur included), and finally, Lee, Fred, and — Oh, it was just them...

"Princess, you scared the shite out of us!" Fred exclaimed, wrapping me up in a hug. I groaned as he pressed against my bandage. "Sorry, sorry!"

"I can't believe this!" said Lee. "Demetria Harris, back from the dead!"

"You read my mind, dreadlocks," came a painfully familiar voice. I turned around and, sure enough, there she was — Rita Skeeter. She was wearing obnoxuously bright, lime green robes and was, of course, accompanied by her paunchy photographer. "So, Demetria, how about a quick interview? Here's what I'm thinking: front page — The _Girl_ Who Lived."

"Not interested," I seethed.

"You're probably right, you'll need an entirely different name," she gabbed, retrieving her Quick-Quotes Quill from her crocodile-skin handbag. "Perhaps something along the lines of a Phoenix! Harris rises from the ashes; it practically writes itself —"

"Piss. Off." I spoke through gritted teeth before immediately turning on my heels to leave.

"I reckon it's time to give out the scores!" shouted Ludo Bagman.

"The tournament was just cancelled," came Percy Weasley.

"Ah, but Demetria is back — alive and well!" Bagman pressed. "Surely we can continue?!" He turned to his fellow judges who were clearly all deciding what to do.

"Very well," declared Dumbledore. "A conference before we give the marks, though, I think."

The judges went into a huddle.

"Just wanted to let you know George is also thrilled you're alive," said Fred, now standing right beside me. "Went back to our dormitory though, he wasn't feeling too well."

"Right," I said, rather despairingly. "Well maybe I could stop by and —"

"Probably not tonight, dunno how contagious it is and you can't afford to get sick," was his excuse.

"Okay," was all I replied with. After all, I was sure Fred knew that I knew he was lying. George didn't want to see me because now I was officially dating Cedric and he didn't want to see me. I knew it was hard on him, but he seemed alright with it the previous week... Probably just putting on a front for my sake, though...

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. In light of the circumstances, we have decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. . .

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause ensued.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her head.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was second to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour." Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; I saw Cho practically drooling over him, clearly very pleased she'd been his hostage. "We therefore award him forty points."

I was no longer standing anywhere near Cedric, but we caught eyes and I gave him a thumbs-up; he smiled graciously.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned first, and well inside the time limit of an hour. We award him the full fifty points."

More applause.

"Demetria Harris not only perfectly executed the challenging task of self-Transfiguration, but also was resurrected after being killed by the merpeople. And had that incident not occured, she would have been the second to return with her hostage, also well inside the time limit. We award her forty-seven points."

I knew Durmstrang would absolutely explode with cheering and clapping, but I didn't expect nearly the entire crowd to do so. All of a sudden, there came a thunderous roar and after a moment, I could hear almost everyone chanting, "HARRIS! HARRIS! HARRIS!"

"I thought I'd get about as many points as Fleur!" I said to Finn, who'd rushed over to me during the chaos.

"What're you mad?!" he shouted above the cheering. "You came back from the dead!"

" _And_ you and Harry are tied for first place!" Viktor added.

Tied? Karkaroff couldn't've been too thrilled about that... It was fine with _me_ , but I knew he would've preferred it if I were still the only one in the first place ranking.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," said Bagman when the chanting died down. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

Madam Pomfrey immediately appeared, herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes. All I could think throughout the entire walk, was how glad I was that this particular task was over, and that I never had to venture into the Black Lake again.


	15. Chapter 14: Lumen

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

 _Lumen_

:.:.:

February had drawn its final breath, though March did not bring much warmer winds. It certainly did bring winds, though; so much so that there were delays in the post due to the owls being blown off course.

For once, things actually seemed calm. True, there was another task coming up, but it was so far off that there wasn't much to do about it. We weren't even provided with a clue to solve. Cedric and I spent more and more time together and were becoming quite close; Viktor and Grigor actually took the time to get to know more about Finn, so they were forming a bond of their own. The only downside to things was that I hadn't seen George at all. Normally, I wouldn't've been able to get rid of the troublesome duo; they were waiting for me at every corner, it seemed. But ever since the second task, it was clear they were doing their best to avoid me. Well, actually, it was just George who was avoiding me.

It wasn't often they detached themselves from one another's hips, but Fred actually went out of his way to speak with me briefly from time to time. I never bothered to ask about George, though; we both knew there wasn't any point in making up excuses for him. But that Friday morning actually brought about a few surprises, one in particular being a certain red-headed twin...

"George!" I exclaimed. Everyone was seated in the Great Hall for breakfast and I noticed George approaching the Slytherin table. I rushed toward him and wrapped my arms around him; he tensed up and did not return my embrace.

"Why didn't you tell me about any of this?" he immediately asked when I pulled away. He quickly flashed a newspaper in front of my eyes, most likely the _Daily Prophet_ , but it was too quick of a movement for me to be sure.

"What're you talking about?" I asked, taken aback. "Ugh, did Rita Skeeter publish that piece on my resurrection?"

"You mean you haven't read it yet?" he asked, surprised.

"Breakfast only just started a few minutes ago," I reminded him. "But I don't understand — you already knew that happened."

"Um, Demi...?" came Grigor's 'you're-not-going-to-like-this' voice from behind me. He handed me his own copy of the _Prophet_ ; a rather lengthy article sat underneath a color photograph of myself after the second task, the heading reading: **DEMETRIA HARRIS RISES FROM THE DEAD...**

I briefly skimmed it but there wasn't really much to it. It simply described what happened to me during the task. But that was when I saw, at the bottom of the newsprint, there was another heading entitled: **...BUT IS SHE HUMAN?**

"What?!" jumped from my mouth as I flipped to the page which held this article. This one was fairly short, and didn't feature a picture.

 **LUMEN OR HUMAN?**

 _Whether or not you're hoping Durmstrang will win this year's Triwizard Tournament, no one can resist cheering on the only girl to ever attend Durmstrang — Demetria Harris,_ writes Rita Skeeter _. She certainly knows how to wow the crowd and please the fans, but this reporter recently discovered that there is more to this mysterious foreigner than meets the eye._

 _It's already been made clear that Harris isn't your typical fifteen-year-old girl, unless being the daughter of a Quidditch legacy, attending an all-boy school, AND defying death are all normal attributes of the average teenager. We know you're just dying (no pun intended) to hear her deep, dark secret, so we won't beat around the broomstick any longer: Demetria Harris is a Lumen._

 _"It all started a few months ago when I had a dream about my mum,"_ said Harris in an exclusive interview. _"She appeared out of no where and gave me this locket with some sort of inscription on it, and when I woke up, I actually had the locket in my hands." Although Harris hasn't been able to crack the code, we did some digging of our own for her._

 _Lumen's literal translation from Latin is simply "light," but the term refers to a distant descendant of a creature of the Light, namely the Siren. Light, with a capital L, is a power which can only be passed down through generations of said creatures. Simple enough to follow, right?_

 _"Finn [Archer] and I spent weeks in the library trying to figure out what it meant,"_ Harris continued. _"Draco [Malfoy] even suggested we visit the Divination professor here [at Hogwarts]. She couldn't tell us anything without the locket, and I didn't have it anymore because I had another dream and the locket completely disappeared when I woke up." Poor Harris can't catch a break. Luckily, this reporter cracked a piece of the code for her._

 _Because Lumens are said to be the descendants of Sirens and wizards, they are often compared to Veelas, the descendants of Harpies and wizards. It is important to note, much like Veelas, that Lumens are not the actual creatures that their ancestors were, being that they do not possess a great enough percentage of the creature's blood to qualify as a Siren, or even half-Siren, quarter-Siren and so on that came before them. Though this brings about much controversy over whether or not Lumens can be considered humans. But whether you believe Demetria Harris to be a human or not, is up to you, readers! (This reporter votes no)._

There were so many thoughts racing through my mind and so many emotions churning up inside me. I wasn't even sure what to say or do or even feel first. Okay, actually, that was a lie — the very first feeling I expressed was anger.

"What the sodding fu — !"

"Whoa! Hey, Dem, why'd you give this woman an interview?" Finn immediately cut me off.

"I didn't!" I insisted.

"So this locket business isn't true?" asked George, curiously.

"Well, no, that's true..." I said softly, feeling confusion next.

"Demetria, I thought we were close," George dropped his voice so only I could hear him, then. "You could've told me about this. Who knows, then maybe _I_ would've been the damsel in distress in that lake." He said it with a flicker of that usual Weasley smirk, but it was only enough to tell me that he was really being serious.

"I'm sorry, are you actually upset that you weren't the _hostage_ I was s'posed to rescue?" I asked him, incredulously.

"I reckon they only picked me 'cause I'm shorter," Finn lamely offered. "Easier to carry...or something."

"Please, I don't want to get into this right now," I fervently told George before turning to Finn. "Is this true? Why couldn't we find anything on this?"

"I guess I'm just wondering why you could tell _Rita bloody Skeeter_ about this and not me," George snapped.

"I didn't! I told —" I froze, only my head moving as it turned to locate the Hufflepuff table. As it turned out, though, I didn't need to, because Cedric had already rushed over to George and I.

"Dem —"

"You _told_ her?!" I didn't even want to hear what he said to say.

"No! I —"

"I can't believe you!" I pressed. "I _confided_ in you, and you ran and told Skeeter the first chance you got!"

"I would never do that!" Cedric defended. "You can't really believe that I would betray you like this!"

"This is word-for-word what I told you, Cedric!" I shouted. "What other possible explanation could there be?!"

"Demi," whispered Grigor.

And that was when I realized I'd just heard Grigor whisper...in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast... I finally noticed it, then: everyone in the Hall had stopped whatever they'd been doing and were all watching me, listening to me... I wasn't sure if it was because they'd all read the article or because I was screaming... Probably both... But thankfully, it didn't last much longer.

"Everyone please, tuck in! Go about your business!" came Albus Dumbledore, making his way from the High Table over to me.

I turned my back to Cedric and immediately hurried to meet Dumbledore half-way. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"No need to apologize, Demetria," he kindly assured me. "I was actually hoping to speak with you, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course, sir," I said, feeling a nervous wave crash over me.

Dumbledore gestured his hand forward and we began walking side-by-side out of the Great Hall. When we came to where I'd just been seated at the Slytherin table, George and Cedric were still standing nearby, but I didn't look at either of them as Dumbledore and I passed. The Headmaster didn't speak again until we made it out of the Hall.

"Demetria, do you recall your first time in the hospital wing, when we arranged a meeting?" he asked me.

"And Karkaroff convinced you that there was nothing to talk about?" slipped out of my mouth before I remembered I wasn't sure if I was supposed to have heard that. "I wasn't eavesdropping though, sir."

"That's quite alright," he insisted with a small grin. "I suspected you might've heard part of that conversation."

"Is that what you want to talk to me about now?" I inquired. "Does it have to do with the _Prophet_?"

"Yes," he told me rather gravely, the grin having vanished. "And yes."

Dumbledore and I continued on the familiar walk to Headmaster's Tower, the stone gargoyle jumping to life after receiving the password for entry. We ascended the spiral staircase until reaching his office; it appeared the very same as the only other time I'd seen it.

"I didn't mean to cause any trouble," I assured Dumbledore, the two of us making our way toward his desk. "I'm sorry if this causes any problems for you...like when word got out about that werewolf professor..."

"Remus Lupin," said Dumbledore, fondly.

Remus Lupin! That was how I'd vaguely recognized the name that night in the Forbidden Forest with Harry! Granted, it still didn't explain how _he_ knew _me_ , if he did at all...

"Send him my regards, next time you get the chance," he said.

"What?" I felt sort of sheepish for just blurting that out, but I was taken by such surprise, my brain couldn't formulate a proper question.

"I apologize, Demetria, I know Carlisle hasn't been too keen on your interaction with your godfather —"

Albus Dumbledore was a very wise man, and one would almost think he sort of knew everything, so it was rather strange to see him wearing the expression he was at that moment; an expression which looked as though he was probably thinking: "Oh shite, I've said too much."

I was sure my own facial expression was that of shock, but after a moment, I couldn't help but laugh, because _of course_ I had a secret godfather that my grandfather kept from me! I wouldn't've been surprised if I had a ton of family members still alive! At that point, after just recently having finally heard the truth about my parents, nothing else that I could find out about myself could come as a surprise. Technically, I suppose it could, but it just wouldn't phase me anymore...

"That's the first I'm hearing about Remus being my godfather," I said, still sort of laughing at how ridiculous the situation was. "But maybe we should get back to the matter at hand — y'know, how I may not even be human." That made me chuckle even more.

I had absolutely no idea who I was.

–

"So you just...laughed?" said Finn.

"Like a tosser," I told him.

I was seated on the ship's railing, surrounded by the usual trio.

"Vut about the...Lumen business?" Viktor inquired.

"He went rather in-depth about them, said he wanted me to understand exactly what they were in order to form my own opinion on whether or not I'm human," I said airily. "He then told me he suspected this would happen to me considering my mother went through the same thing. Oh, and here's the kicker — my _powers_ will be coming in soon."

All three blokes gave the exact reactions I expected: Viktor was concerned, Grigor was excited, and Finn was bewildered.

"What sort of powers?" Finn asked the question on everyone's mind.

"He didn't say," I told them. "He did say that I would need the locket back, though. Trelawney was right about one thing — it has all the answers."

"So you just have to wait around until you wake up with it again?" said Finn, irritated. "What if that takes too long?"

"Finn is correct, there must be some vay to get the locket for yourself," Viktor agreed, determined.

"I'm afraid not, blokes," I said, recalling another piece of information I'd learned. "Dumbledore said it's all about the timing. It won't come to me until I'm ready."

"So there is nothing ve can do about this right now?" asked Grigor, clearly disappointed.

"I don't think so, mate," I told him.

"How anticlimactic..." Finn deadpanned.

Suddenly, the doors to Karkaroff's cabin flew open, our Headmaster rushing to make his way off the ship.

"Where d'you reckon he's off to in such a hurry?" said Finn once Karkaroff was out of earshot.

I replied to Finn with a mischievous look instead of vocalizing my thoughts because I knew Viktor would disapprove. But not at all to my surprise, he caught on anyway.

"Do not even think about it, Demi," he warned.

"C'mon, Vik, there's nothing exciting going on!" I pleaded. It was true; March brought winds and not much else. The calm before the storm which was sure to be the third task was incredibly boring.

"Vhy don't you go speak vith Cedric, if you are looking for something to do?" suggested Viktor.

"Even if I wanted to, he's in class and —" I immediately had a thought but my face did not reveal it. "— Y'know, maybe you're right... I'll wait for him, I reckon it'll be over soon."

I wasn't even sure if Viktor believed that's what I was really doing, but he didn't stop me as I made my way off the ship and across the grounds. I tried to move as quickly as possibly while still seeming casual, but I needed to find which way Karkaroff went. Luckily, as soon as I stepped foot in the castle, I caught a glimpse of him turning the corner at the very end of the corridor. I followed, keeping a safe distance away, until we reached the steps leading to what I assumed were the dungeons. I waited at the top of the stairs for a moment before descending them, and saw from around the corner, Karkaroff knock on a door. When he entered through it, I rushed to catch it before it shut, leaving my hand in between to keep the door open the tiniest bit.

I couldn't see much, but it looked like a classroom; most likely Potions. That would probably mean Karkaroff had been rushing to speak to Snape. That was when I remembered something I'd witnessed the night of the Yule Ball but never really paid much attention to...

 _"…don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor."_

 _"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" Karkaroff's voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can't deny it —"_

 _"Then flee," said Snape's voice curtly. "Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."_

I watched Karkaroff up in the front of the room, trying to speak with Snape who, apparently, kept dismissing him. Finally, Karkaroff admitted defeat and waited behind the desk as Snape, presumably, continued with the lesson. Although, just as I'd said to Viktor, classes were about to end so it wasn't long before the bell sounded and I stood back from the door to allow students to leave. Once the coast was clear, I returned to my spot by the door, opening it just a crack, as I'd done before.

"What's so urgent?" I heard Snape hiss.

" _This_ ," said Karkaroff. In order to hear better, my ear was placed against the small opening rather than my eyes, this time, so I couldn't see what he was referring to at first. But I stool a quick glance and noticed my Headmaster rolling up the left-hand sleeve of his robe. I couldn't see his forearm, but I didn't have to in order to know what it held home to — the Dark Mark.

I'd always heard rumors about Karkaroff being a Death Eater, but I was never really convinced of it. I couldn't say I was shocked to learn this, however. Though I _was_ a bit surprised I'd never seen him or heard him mentioned at the meetings and gatherings...

"Well?" Karkaroff pressed; I'd turned my head once again so my ear was near the door's opening. "Do you see? It's never been this clear, never since —"

"Put it away!" snarled Snape.

"But you must have noticed —"

"We can talk later, Karkaroff!" Snape spat. "Potter! What are you doing?"

Harry? I turned so I could see again and, sure enough, Harry Potter rose up from behind one of the tables. "Clearing up my armadillo bile, Professor," he said, innocently holding up a sodden rag to prove it.

I'd been so focused on Harry, I hadn't even noticed that Snape's dark eyes were on me. Well, actually, I couldn't tell if he knew it was me, but he appeared to be looking right in the doorway. But before I even thought to move away or shut the door, I heard him call out, "Who's there?"

"Shite," I swore under my breath before revealing myself from behind the door. Harry and Karkaroff appeared rather surprised, though Snape did not. I wasn't even entirely sure why I opened the door. He had no idea it was me and I could've very easily gotten away before anyone could've figured that out...

"Potter, leave," Snape ordered; Harry immediately rushed to gather his belongings and exit.

"Demetria, you too," said Karkaroff, anxiously.

"No, Harris, stay," Snape insisted.

Harry passed by me as he left and I entered. I didn't think I heard the door close, so I figured Harry was doing what I'd done, waiting just outside...listening...

"Severus, what are you —"

"Relax, Igor," said Snape, calmly. "Young Harris is on our side. You weren't aware that one of your students is —"

"I'm not," I quickly assured both Karkaroff and Harry, if he was really listening.

"Not yet," Snape corrected, grimly before rolling up his own sleeve.

That was when I moved close enough to, hopefully, block Harry's view and also so we could speak quiet enough that he wouldn't overhear us. Snape and Karkaroff both admired the Dark Marks on their inner, left forearms. Karkaroff was right; they'd grown much clearer. You see, the Dark Marks had been fading since the end of the First Wizarding War. The ones I'd seen were very faint, like the one on Granda — Carlisle... But these before me were nearly jet black... Voldemort was coming...

"Still wondering what your fate will be for going against orders, Harris?" Snape clearly took pleasure in asking me. "I am sure the suspense must be excruciating, or perhaps even... _torturous_."

"Demetria, what have you done?" Karkaroff asked me, his cold, dark eyes full of panic.

And for a split second, I couldn't answer. All I could do was think about that night... I hadn't since, well, since it happened, really.

I remembered the feeling of Jack Gelling's lips on mine. _Relax_ , he'd said. _You said no one was home_. And I believed it for a moment, until . . .

I immediately shook the thought from my mind, not allowing myself to remember that night.

"Something I should've done a long time ago," I said through gritted teeth, recalling the moment I'd cast the Cruciatus Curse on Dolohov.

"I must advise you to refrain from saying such things, Harris," Snape warned, starting to appear just as genuinely afraid as Karkaroff.

"I know about my parents," I seethed.

Without missing a beat, Snape spoke again. "Leave. Both of you," he ordered, coldly.

I didn't wait for a second instruction; I made my way for the door while Karkaroff insisted he be in the loop. I heard Snape dismiss him as I left the room and, sure enough, found Harry trying to run from it. I knew Karkaroff must've been right behind us, so I kept my pace even with Harry's as we ascended the staircase out of the dungeons.

"Not a word of this to Hermione and Ron," I instructed him, gravely, keeping my voice low. "I know you tell them everything. Mention Snape and Karkaroff if you must, but leave me out of it. Please."

Harry appeared rather taken aback, but he didn't have the chance to reply before Karkaroff appeared just behind us at the top of the stairs. We were walking to the Great Hall, but were still in earshot.

"Alright, I'll tutor you in Potions but you have to let me borrow your Firebolt," I concocted on the spot. "Promise?"

I looked Harry right in his green eyes so he would, hopefully, know what the promise was really about.

"I promise," he told me, seriously.

"Oh, and turns out I supposedly _do_ know who Remus Lupin is," I mentioned just before we entered the crowded Great Hall.

Harry looked to me with shock once again. "You do? How?"

"I just found out he's my godfather," I told him, airily. Honestly, there was no point in getting angry over family secrets that Carlisle kept from me...unless I _wanted_ to be angry all the time.

"Your _godfather_?" Harry incredulously parroted. Karkaroff passed between us, still looking rather anxious, but we walked off towards the Gryffindor table to avoid him. Well, at least so _I_ could avoid him. "That's — Wow! But you don't remember him?"

"I don't reckon I've ever met him," I said. "Except probably as a baby."

Harry seemed to ponder something for a brief moment before speaking again. "Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

I didn't see what that had to do with anything we'd just discussed but I answered, regardless. "I wasn't planning on it, why?"

My tone sounded sort of bitter because I actually _had_ been planning on it — I was going to go with Cedric but, well, I still didn't exactly feel like speaking to him about the Rita Skeeter incident.

"I'm going with Ron and Hermione and I really think you should join us," he brightly offered.

"Er, okay, sure," I told him. After all, he seemed rather determined about something.

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow," said Harry.

"See you."

He continued to the Gryffindor table and I made my way back toward the Slytherins. Before I'd even sat down at the bench, Viktor was already reprimanding me.

"You did not go to talk vith Cedric," he said, disapprovingly. "You followed Karkaroff."

"What gave it away?" I asked, though casually. After all, I knew that he'd figure it out. He probably didn't even believe me in the first place.

"Cedric rushed over here looking for you the minute we sat down," Finn chimed in.

"Vas it vorth it?" Viktor asked me, knowingly.

"No, Vik, you were right," I told him.

"Az vinagi sŭm," was his cocky reply. _**(I always am)**_


	16. Chapter 15: Snuffles and Tri

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

 _Snuffles and Tri_

:.:.:

The next day I was still doing my very best to avoid Cedric, much like George had returned to doing with me. Cedric had tried approaching me at dinner the previous night and several times at the ship, and that morning was no exception. But every time, I had Finn and Grigor tell him that I wasn't ready to forgive him. I wasn't actually sure what the two thought of the situation, but I knew Viktor's view — that Cedric was innocent and there must've been some other explanation — which was why Viktor didn't help me out like Finn and Grigor. And though I was nearly positive that Cedric wouldn't betray me that way, Skeeter wasn't anywhere near the first aid tent when I'd told him my secret — Well, it wasn't exactly a secret _anymore_... All three blokes had been guarding the tent and the mediwizard was apparently too involved in a conversation with Dumbledore about my condition to be eavesdropping.

So, anyway, after breakfast, I spent the rest of the morning with Harry, Ron, and Hermione up in Gryffindor Tower until it was time for lunch. After that, I joined up with them again and, thankfully, didn't see any sign of Cedric.

Even though I'd asked Harry about a dozen times why he wanted me to come along, he wouldn't say anything more than "You'll see" even when we finally arrived in Hogsmeade. I wasn't sure why it put me so on-edge. I knew I should've just relaxed and been having fun with the Golden Trio. After all, I _did_ enjoy spending time with them and never really got the chance to, but there were just so many things that kept making me uneasy. I worried that Harry had told his mates about my involvement in Death Eater business and perhaps they'd hatched some sort of plot to take me out...literally and then figuratively. Part of me knew that was ridiculous, but I couldn't get the other part to agree.

Around half past one, after a visit to Gladrags Wizardwear where Harry bought a pair of socks for Dobby (because it turned out Dobby gave him the same pair of the mismatched socks he'd given me for Christmas), I followed the trio's lead as we walked up High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village. That was when I truly started panicking, the rational part of me slowly becoming less and less convinced that I was being ridiculous earlier. I knew there wasn't much point in asking any questions about where we were going...and I also wasn't sure why I was so nervous. I was fairly certain I could beat the three of them in a duel...except perhaps Hermione, she was sure to put up a fight... Well, and maybe Harry... To be fair, I didn't even know Ron's duelling capabilities; for all I knew, he could've been the best out of the trio. The best I'd be able to do would be to disarm them, though, I wouldn't be able to get away with killing three students, and certainly not when one of them was the famous Boy Who Lived.

The winding lane continued to lead us out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade, somewhere I'd never travelled before. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; we were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then we turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for us, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth.

 _THIS is how they're going to kill me?_ was all that I could think. Well actually, that and about a thousand different ways I could make it out of this alive. I continued playing out possible scenarios in my head as the dog approached us until Harry finally broke the silence we'd been stuck in since leaving the village.

"Hello, Sirius," he said when the dog had reached us.

The dog seemed to almost ignore Harry and stared right at me. I moved to retrieve my wand from my combat boot.

"Oh, right!" said Harry, seeming to have just remembered I was there. "I'm sure you two met a long time ago but I hope it's alright I brought her — it's Demetria Harris."

My hand froze inside my boot as I stared blankly at the dog.

"What in the sodding hell is going on?!" I finally demanded of Harry.

"Harry, you didn't _tell_ her?!" Hermione scolded in a way which reminded me of Viktor. It was honestly no wonder those two got along so well.

"I thought it would be better as a surprise!" Harry sheepishly defended.

Now that my head was clearing up, something clicked. "Wait, _Sirius_? As in _Sirius Black_?"

The dog gave a bark and began to trot away across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. The four of us climbed over the stile and followed, Harry finally explaining the situation, although it turned out, I already knew it.

Sirius Black was innocent of the crime he was sent to Azkaban for, and even though Harry, Ron, and Hermione had tried to clear his name, the real perpetrator had gotten free and so Sirius lived in hiding and this dog was his Animagus form. I knew this because the person who really committed the crime was Wormtail, someone I already had the displeasure of knowing.

"I thought maybe...since Lupin is...your godfather...you'd know Sirius too... and he could...sort of...help you see him," Harry told me between breaths, as we were now following Sirius up onto the mountain itself.

"Harry...that's very sweet..." I said, truly touched. "But the next time...you want to lead someone...to a secluded area... you'll let them know why... so they're not planning...how to take down three wizards at once."

"You thought...we were...going to _kill_ you?" asked Ron, incredulously.

"Stupid, I know," I said to Ron and Hermione before speaking quietly to Harry. "I thought...you'd told them about me..."

"No...I promised you," he told me fervently.

"Thank you," I whole-heartedly told him.

He only smiled in reply, probably because it was truly getting harder to breathe.

For nearly half an hour we climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, sweating in the sun. Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when we reached the place where he had vanished, we saw a narrow fissure in the rock. Upon squeezing into it, we were in a cool, dimly lit cave. There was a rope tied around a large rock with a hippogriff tethered at the other end of it. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, its fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of us.

"Buckbeak," Harry told me. I assumed that was its name.

We bowed low to Buckbeak, and after regarding us imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck. But I wasn't watching this long, because out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sirius transforming into a human. When I turned to look, there before us stood an exceptionally thin man with long, untidy, black hair, wearing ragged gray robes. He looked so familiar to me...and not just because I'd seen his face all over England when he escaped from Azkaban...

"Demetria!" he said hoarsely after removing the old _Daily Prophets_ from his mouth and throwing them onto the cave floor. He had his arms open wide but dropped them when I didn't respond. He began approaching me cautiously, probably unsure of how I would react.

"I take it old Carlisle never mentioned me," he said, bitingly.

A bitter chuckle escaped me. "There's a lot he didn't mention," I scoffed.

"That sounds about right," he sneered; but when he looked at me again, his expression and tone changed. It was much...warmer. "I was rather good friends with your parents."

That was honestly all I needed to hear before I ran up to Sirius and wrapped my arms around him; he immediately returned the embrace.

"I can't believe how grown up you are," he said, sincerely, before pulling away to take another look at me. "Merlin's beard, you look _just_ like Lucy. I'd swear I was looking at her right now if it weren't for those eyes..."

I hadn't even realized how widely I'd been smiling until I tried to speak. "My dad's eyes." My voice came out just as hoarsely as Sirius's had before; I felt as though I actually might've cried.

"Remus has got to see you," said Sirius, decidedly.

"Where is he?" I asked almost immediately.

Sirius's face fell. "I'm afraid I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't exactly been keeping in touch with anyone...except Harry, of course."

Right. A wrongfully accused convict currently in hiding, living in a cave with a hippogriff — not the best choice to help you find your godfather.

"I'm sorry, Demetria," said Harry, seeming rather crestfallen as well, and embarrassed. "Maybe Dumbledore could —"

"I already tried that," I told him, despondently. "He said he didn't want to go against my grandfather's wishes."

"Why doesn't your grandfather want you getting in touch with your godfather?" Hermione inquired.

I didn't know for sure, but my best guess was that he didn't want me learning the truth about my parents. Now that I knew, however, I _could've_ just asked Carlisle...but much like Cedric, I still didn't wish to speak with him.

"Bad blood," I shrugged. "Don't worry about it though, Harry, I'll find him. And I still really appreciate you bringing me here."

I looked to Sirius as I said the last part, the two of us grinning at one another. Azkaban had certainly altered his appearance, I was sure, but there was still something very familiar about his face. I only wished I could remember what little time I must've had with him...and Remus, for that matter.

"Now then, Harry, you brought some food, I hope?" asked Sirius.

Harry opened the bag he'd been carrying with him and handed over a bundle of chicken legs and bread.

"Thanks," Sirius said, tearing off a large chunk of a drumstick with his teeth. "I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

"So what're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry questioned.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather," said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. I'd almost forgotten Sirius was Harry's own godfather. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

He was still grinning until catching the anxiety plastered on Harry's face; he, then, spoke more seriously. "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

He nodded at the yellowing _Daily Prophet_ s on the cave floor, Ron picking up and unfolding them.

"What if they catch you?" Harry pressed. "What if you're seen?"

"You three — Well, now four — and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," said Sirius, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg.

Ron nudged Harry and passed him the _Daily Prophet_ s. I glanced over as well. There were two: The first bore the headline _Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch_ , the second, _Ministry Witch Still Missing_ — _Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved_.

I had no idea what Harry had written to Sirius about, but after scanning the article about Crouch, it was evident something was going on: _hasn't been seen in public since November . . . house appears deserted . . . St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment . . . Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness. . ._

"They're making it sound like he's dying," said Harry slowly. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron informed Sirius. Ah, yes, good old Percy. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he _did_ look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry. "The night our names came out of the goblet..." He gestured to me. I'd honestly thought they forgot I was standing there.

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, an edge to her voice. I was still just trying to keep up, but it sounded like Winky was his house-elf. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to both Sirius and I, confirming my assumption.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" asked Sirius, clearly very interested.

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," said Harry. He then launched into the story of the Dark Mark's appearance, and Winky being found with Harry's wand clutched in her hand, and Mr. Crouch's fury. When Harry had finished, Sirius was on his feet again and had started pacing up and down the cave.

"Let me get this straight," he said after a while, brandishing a fresh chicken leg. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," the trio confirmed.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," said Harry. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

I hadn't been speaking because I didn't really have much to contribute...up until now. I continued to keep my mouth shut because I had a fairly good idea of what happened but I couldn't share it without letting it slip that I was in the Death Eater business. I wasn't even entirely sure if that was something Sirius knew... I could only assume considering he seemed to know all about Carlisle...

Barty Crouch Jr. was a Death Eater. I'd seen him around the meetings, though not all that much. He'd been convicted but his father smuggled him out of Azkaban, replacing him with his terminally ill mother, disguised by using the Polyjuice Potion. Crouch Jr.'s father had then placed him under the Imperius Curse to prevent him from running away.

The night of the World Cup, I'd heard some of the other Death Eaters talking about how Crouch Jr. would be there under an Invisibility Cloak, with Winky...

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm..." Harry thought hard. "No, he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," said Sirius.

It's exactly what happened. Barty Crouch Jr. stole Harry's wand and conjured the Dark Mark.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box," said Sirius, his brow furrowed as he continued to pace. Damn, he was good. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," said Harry. "Some Bulgarian ministers...Cornelius Fudge...the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" said Ron suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak started nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"It wasn't." I couldn't help it. The words shot from my mouth before I could even think to stop them. The Malfoys were incredibly misunderstood, and yes, Draco and his father could certainly be tools at times, but there was always something about them that made me think they were like Carlisle and I — just doing what needed to be done to survive.

"That's right, you were there too," said Harry in realization. "With the Malfoys."

I thought for a moment there would be an interrogation, but that was all he said before Sirius spoke again.

"Anyone else?"

"No one," Harry told him.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh yeah..."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Winbourne Wasps," said Sirius, still pacing. "What's he like?"

"Bit of a nutter, but he's harmless," I spoke again. Bagman wasn't one of us, er, one of _them_...a Death Eater.

"He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament," said Harry.

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me." Harry shrugged.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told Sirius. "Remember?" she spoke to Harry and Ron, then.

Ron and Hermione went back and forth, the former arguing it couldn't've been Bagman, and the latter insisting it was more likely than Winky.

"It wasn't Bagman." That time, I'd finally said too much. Now there were curious eyes on me.

"How d'you know it wasn't Malfoy or Bagman?" Ron asked, tentatively.

And why did it matter to me whether they knew who really conjured the Mark or not? Why couldn't I just let them believe it was Malfoy or Bagman? Luckily, I didn't have to answer because Sirius spoke again after thinking rather hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's...he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too... It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"D'you know Crouch, then?" said Harry. The spotlight was off of me, though Ron didn't seem all too convinced to drop it just yet.

Sirius's face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as the Sirius Black whose face had been plastered all over England not too long ago.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he said quietly. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial."

" _What_?" said Hermione and Ron together.

"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed.

When the three of them looked to me, I mustered a look of shock, but I wasn't all too surprised, honestly.

"No, I'm not," said Sirius, taking another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

The trio shook their heads; I mirrored it.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius continued. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter. No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side...well, you wouldn't understand...you're too young..."

A cynical breath of laughter escaped me, but I immediately covered it by sniffling and looking to Buckbeak, feigning an allergy.

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," said Ron, a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"

A grin flashed across Sirius's face.

"All right, I'll try you..." He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing...the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere . . . panic . . . confusion . . . that's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something happened..." Sirius smiled grimly; I had a feeling this was the part I knew. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's _son_ was caught?" gasped Hermione.

"Yep," said Sirius, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaf of bread, tearing it in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while...gotten to know his son."

He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

" _Was_ his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

I was about to answer, but I stopped myself that time. Again, I wasn't sure why it mattered so much to me that they know the truth. I s'pose they were going to find out eventually, though...

"No idea," said Sirius before I could speak, anyway. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark, and at first, I thought it was because of how Hermione decided to phrase that question.

"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy...then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

For some reason, it was beginning to bother me that this was what they thought was going on, but I didn't dare speak again.

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" asked Harry quietly.

 _No, he saved his son. He loves his son_.

"That's right," said Sirius. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though...they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry inquired.

"No. No, he's not in there anymore." said Sirius dully. At least _that_ part was true. "He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He _died_?"

 _Nope. Wrong again_.

"He wasn't the only one," said Sirius bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up the flask Harry had brought and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray." I wondered if people would think that about me... "The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

There was a long silence. Sirius had mentioned he and my parents were good friends... I wondered just how good, exactly. Maybe he knew about what my father did, joining the Death Eaters to protect my mother and me... I wondered what he thought about him, about both of them...about me...

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," said Sirius, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron triumphantly, looking at Hermione. I was lost, once again.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," said Sirius.

"Yeah, it does!" said Ron excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry.

Hermione immediately broke in. "Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really Dark wizard couldn't fool him —"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out —"

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said loudly, Hermione and Ron stopping their bickering to listen.

I was curious as well. I knew Snape was on the Dark Side, I just was never fully convinced as to how much... After all, Dumbledore did trust him, and it was hard to believe that a wizard as wise as he was wouldn't know exactly what Snape was up to. I'd never paid much mind to Snape, but the others were always questioning his loyalty, much like they did with Carlisle...and apparently my father, as well... Perhaps I'd been wrong about Snape, myself. Perhaps he _was_ someone Dumbledore could trust...

"I think they've both got a point," said Sirius, voicing my inner monologue. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," Sirius added; Harry and Ron grinned at each other. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

"Sometimes you don't have a choice in becoming one," I spoke up again but didn't care if they questioned me this time. "You're all very quick to judge the Malfoys, but you don't know them like I do. Not everyone who joins the Dark Side does so by choice."

The trio looked to me as though I'd actually given them something to think about; Sirius was nodding in agreement with me.

"That is true, but there's no doubt this particular group made their own choices," Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names — names that I couldn't help but feel sick and guilty that I already knew.

"Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell." I didn't know them personally, being that they were dead before I could met them, but I'd heard about them, certainly.

"The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban." Another pair I'd never met, but Godric, had I heard of them... Quite honestly, they scared me, this coming from a girl who'd grown up around these monsters nearly her whole life. I knew some bloody awful people, but the Lestranges were the worst of the worst; truly mental.

"Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large." He certainly was. I'd seen him not too long ago...

"But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron. Hermione quickly elbowed him in the side and he seemed to look over at me as though just realizing I was still there.

"Er, I don't really know if Karkaroff's involved..." I fibbed.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape," Sirius continued with a grimace of frustration. "and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" said Ron stubbornly.

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure _he_ trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though...he's a different matter... Is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not...what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

I may have known the answers to their wonderings before, but not anymore. I had no idea what was going on with Crouch, nor did I even know he and Moody had sneaked into Snape's office...

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," Ron offered, though doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," said Sirius, gesturing to the second copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

I gasped. I couldn't help it, I didn't mean to. The name caught me off guard. I tried to play it off as more sniffling, though, and no one really seemed to notice, except Sirius...but he didn't bring attention to it.

Bertha Jorkins discovered Wormtail and he killed her for it. That was all Carlisle had told me on the matter, but he also implied that she may have seen Voldemort, as well, before her death.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there," said Sirius, nodding at the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... Maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long..."

Sirius heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?"

The four of us checked our watches but Hermione was the one to respond.

"It's half past three," she said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen..." He looked particularly hard at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius scowled.

"I don't care...I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

"Oh, and speaking of the tournament," Sirius looked to me with a much warmer expression. "Demetria, glad you came back to life."

We actually all chuckled. "You and me, both," I told him. "And I'm really glad I got to meet you, or I guess, see you again."

He grinned and wrapped me in another quick embrace. "Likewise," he said. "And I'll do my best to find Remus for you. C'mon, I'll walk to the edge of the village with you, see if I can scrounge another paper."

He transformed into the great black dog before we all left the cave, and we walked mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of us to pat him on the head before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. The Golden Trio and I made our way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as we walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care... It'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."

 _Ugh, this again?_

"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," said Hermione severely.

"I don't know," Ron said. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy's really ambitious, you know..."

We walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward us from the Great Hall.

"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, breathing deeply. "He must really like you, Harry . . . Imagine having to live off rats."

We all gave a laugh.

"I'm sorry again, Demetria," Harry said just as we'd approached the Hall.

"It's really all right, Harry," I insisted. "I really am glad I got to see Snuffles, and hanging out with you three isn't too bad either."

"As long as you don't think we're trying to kill you," Ron teased.

We laughed again.

"We really enjoy spending time with you, too," said Hermione, sincerely. "Don't be a stranger, all right?"

"All right." I mirrored her smile.

"We don't even really know much about you..." said Ron, uncertainly. I knew he was about to bring up something I'd said back in the cave, but for the first time in the last two days, I was actually glad to see Cedric.

"Hey, Harry, Ron, Hermione," he greeted the trio pleasantly; they returned the welcome. "Mind if I have a word with Demetria?"

The three looked to me to see if it was alright with me, first, and when I nodded, we all exchanged goodbyes as they went into the Great Hall.

Cedric appeared sort of taken aback. "You're really letting me talk to you?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"Well, yeah, but I'm also really hungry..." I said, the two of us cracking a smile, then. "Will you come by the ship after dinner?"

Cedric looked ecstatic, as though I'd just asked him to marry me. "Yeah, of course. I'll see you then."

I'd actually half-expected to see Cedric waiting for me when people began filing out of the Great Hall once dinner had ended, but I didn't. Instead, someone else appeared to be waiting for me, although I couldn't be sure, so I continued walking for a moment. They immediately stopped me.

"I was waiting for _you_ , Princess." I turned back and saw George giving me his lopsided grin.

"I wasn't sure if we were speaking or not," I told him.

He gestured for us to move to the side, away from the bustling students.

"I'm sorry," he said whole-heartedly, without even a trace of a smirk. "I'm sorry for avoiding you, I'm sorry I keep...getting into arguments with you," we both gave a small laugh at that. "I've been acting sort of childish —"

"You, childish? _Never_ ," I teased.

"Oi, I'm trying to apologize here," he said, though in jest. "Anyway, it's just... I dunno, it's harder than I thought it would be...but I'll be fine, I'll get over it. I just want to go back to being friends again. So...friends?" He extended a hand.

"George Weasley, I _died_ last month and have yet to receive my 'I'm so glad you're alive' hug from you," I told him, matter-of-factly.

He smirked. "You're right, I dunno what I was thinking," He then proceeded to wrap me up in his arms and even lifted me off the ground for a moment. "Thank Merlin you're alive, Princess! I was so worried we'd have no one to rule the kingdom!"

"You just had to go and ruin the moment, didn't you?" I teased when he set me back down.

"I can bring it back just as easily," he assured me. "Have you got a few minutes to come to my dormitory?"

"George!" I said, actually quite taken aback by his...boldness. I struck his arm.

"Oh, no! No, that's not what I meant!" he immediately insisted, ears reddening. "Not that I'd be opposed —" He looked almost as surprised as I was, then, red spreading to his face. "I just have something to show you, to give you, I...I know it was your birthday a few weeks ago."

"How d'you know that?" I inquired.

"Finn told me," he explained. "I asked him...how you were doing and he mentioned it."

"That's — You didn't have to get me anything," I told him. I felt bad knowing the Weasleys weren't exactly the wealthiest family...

"Well I already did," he said with a smirk. "So...?"

"Alright then," I conceded.

I'd say I followed George up to Gryffindor Tower, but there was no need for me to follow considering I knew the way so well. It sort of made me feel...weird, for lack of a better word, for a moment. I knew exactly where the Gryffindor common room was and had no idea where the Slytherins were. Not that it really mattered, I s'pose... After all, this wasn't my school. I wasn't in either House. And I kept forgetting that my mother had been a Gryffindor, herself.

George gave the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady and we made our way into the common room where I saw plenty of familiar faces.

"Oi, Georgie, where've you — Princess!" cried Fred. "Welcome, welcome! Can I take this to mean that you two are, dare I say, friends again?"

"Yes," we both told him.

"Ugh, it is so hard to keep up with you, honestly," Fred said fervently before speaking to Lee. "So hot and cold, these two, am I right?"

Lee only laughed and nodded in reply before someone I hadn't spoken to in a while stepped in.

"Oh, bugger off, Fred." It was Ginny. She gave her brother a slap upside the head, though smiled good-naturedly.

"Thank you for that," I told her.

"Anytime," she assured me. "So how're you and Cedric?"

Cedric...

"Son of a banshee," I cursed. "George, I'm sorry, I told Cedric I'd meet him after dinner to talk."

"Oh, well, this'll just take a second," he said, though slightly crestfallen. "C'mon, I'm already weeks late."

"Okay, okay, let's go," I said. "I guess a few more minutes won't hurt at this point."

George led the way up the staircase and I followed him into the sixth-year boys' dormitory. He rushed over to his four-poster and opened the trunk which sat at the foot of it.

"You have to close your eyes because I didn't wrap it," he told me rather sheepishly.

"Didn't have time?" I mocked, closing my eyes.

"Hilarious as usual, Princess," said George sarcastically.

"Just about as hilarious as that tired old nickname," I said, only half-jokingly.

"Aw, c'mon, I reckon it suits you." I couldn't tell whether or not he was kidding, but I could finally hear him make his way toward me.

"Yeah, Durmstrang's Lille Prinsesse," I scoff. "You think I'm a pampered, spoiled brat who gets everything handed to me?"

"Dem, Fred and I only tease you, you know that," said George, sincerely. I saw nothing but darkness but I could sense he was near me, then. "Does it really bother you?"

"I dunno, I guess not," I admitted. "Not from you two, anyway. Some of the blokes at school call me it because I'm the only girl and they reckon I get special treatment because of it."

"You and I both know that isn't true," he assured me. "Hell, I'm sure even _they_ know it isn't true. They're only jealous, Prin — Demetria."

I smiled, and then said something I never thought I'd say. "If you want a new nickname for me, you could...call me Tri."

I'd almost expected George to chuckle at it. After all, it sounded like I'd just asked him to call me Tree. But I guess there was something about the way I'd said it, or maybe it was my facial expression, that told him that I was serious and that this really meant something to me.

"Tri?" there was a hint of laughter in his voice when he asked. "Oh, like Deme _tri_ a?"

I was silent for a moment. Tri. I hadn't heard anyone call me that in a long time. Actually, not since I saw my parents...when I died...but before that, it had been years... And it wasn't even something I could remember considering how young I was...but Carlisle had told me all about it.

"What's wrong?" George asked, concerned.

I hadn't even noticed there was a tear running down my cheek until I finally spoke again. "My grandad used to call me Tria," I explained, softly. "And my dad... would call me Tri... But no one uses them anymore and... I dunno, I miss it."

"Are you sure?" said George. "I know it means a lot to you. Are you sure you don't want to...keep it between you and your dad?"

"Well, _you_ mean a lot to me too," I told him, whole-heartedly. "If anyone's going to call me Tri...it's going to be you two."

I knew it was stupid to say, considering one of them couldn't call me anything anymore... But George knew what I meant. I heard him drop whatever my gift was and didn't even have time to look and see what it was before he'd wrapped his arms around me.

"So, Tri . . . are you ever going to give me my clothes back?" George asked me after a moment.

I laughed and pulled away from him. "D'you _always_ have to ruin the moment?"

"I had to this time or else you'd never get your gift!" he exclaimed, chuckling a bit too.

I looked down and saw a pair of small, black Chuck Taylors with white laces.

"My first pair of sneakers!" I said, beaming. I immediately removed my combat boots and swapped them for the Chucks.

"You like them, then?" George was looking at me rather anxiously. "They fit? I had to get your size from Viktor."

I finished lacing them and walked around a bit. "Vik was right," I told him. That didn't surprise me, though. I was fairly certain I knew Viktor's shoe size as well. "And I love them, George! Thank you! But you really didn't have to —"

"Like I said, I already did so just enjoy!" he said. "And maybe now you could give me mine back?" He smirked.

"Right, sorry, I'll bring you your stuff tomorrow," I promised before catching a glimpse of my watch. "Shite! Okay, I really do have to go now. Cedric's waiting."

"Oh yeah, sorry!" he said, appearing slightly disappointed again. "Well, happy belated birthday, and I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you!" I called, rushing for the door now. "Thanks again, George!"

"You're welcome, Tri!"

I paused for a moment. It was certainly nice to hear that again.

I rushed down the stairs and through the common room with a quick goodbye to everyone in it. When I finally made it out to the dock, Cedric was making his way down the plank.

"Cedric! I'm so sorry!" I said, nearly knocking right into him. He had his arms outstretched, holding each of my shoulders; one of my hands was holding my boots, my other was on my left side. I thought my battle wound from the Second Task was healed up, but I s'pose I should've been a bit more careful.

"Are you all right?" he asked, worried. "Where were you?"

"I'm fine, this is from the tournament," I assured him, gesturing to the wound. "I lost track of time, I was just going to stop by really quickly bu —"

"Stop by where, love?" His expression and tone lightened up when he realized I hadn't been in any danger.

"Gryffindor common room," I told him. "George wanted to give me my birthday gift — See!" I looked down at my Chucks in admiration, Cedric following suit.

"You were with George..." If that were a question, he didn't phrase it as such. He sounded sort of distant, then.

"What're you thinking?" I grew a bit worried, myself.

"I just know that he... Well, it's no secret, he fancies you —"

"You think something happened?" I asked, incredulously.

I was surprised when Cedric gave a chuckle. "Y'know what?" he said, still grinning. "I don't. I dunno why I got so worried for a minute, there, because I know that just because he fancies you, that doesn't mean...anything would happen between you two."

I smiled then, too. "George wouldn't do that," I assured him. "And I certainly wouldn't either. I don't think of him that way, and I wouldn't want to ruin what we have."

Cedric leaned in to place a kiss on my lips just before his smile faltered. "So, Demetria, about this Rita Skeeter business —"

"I know you didn't tell her," I said. I was certain I knew that all along, really. "I dunno how she found out _exactly_ what I'd said, but...I trust you."

His smile returned, possibly wider than before. "I'm glad," he said, softly.

"Nakraya!" I heard Viktor exclaim. **(** _ **Finally**_ **)**

He was standing on the ship, right where the plank met the railing.

"Sod off!" I told him, though smiling. "He thinks he's always right," I said quietly to Cedric.

"I am!" Viktor called out again.

I rolled my eyes; Cedric laughed.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you," I told him.

He gave me a quick kiss. "Night, Viktor!"

"Goodnight, Cedric!" Vik returned.

When Cedric was a good distance off and I'd climbed back on to the ship, Viktor spoke again.

"Vhat about George?"

I dropped my boots and sat up on the railing. "What _about_ George?" I inquired.

Viktor looked down to my sneakers in reply and then back at me, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

"Cedric got me a birthday gift, too," I defended, but Viktor ignored that.

"You do not feel anything for George?" he asked, instead.

"No," I said, airily. What I'd said to Cedric was true: I didn't think of George that way. At least, I didn't think so... _Wait, no, what're you talking about? You don't like George, he's your friend! You like Cedric!_

"Doing the arguing vith yourself?" said Viktor, smuggly. He could read me like a bloody book.

"Why're you even asking me this?" I demanded. "I thought you liked Cedric?"

"I do," he insisted. "But I know he is not the von for you."

"I'm fifteen, Vik, how could you possibly know who _the von_ is already?" I teased. "What if I haven't even met him yet?"

"I know that I am not the von for Hermione," he said, matter-of-factly. "But I can see that Ron is."

"Anyone can see that he obviously fancies her, but that doesn't mean they're meant to, y'know, end up together," I debated.

Viktor didn't speak for a moment, though he still appeared rather smug. "Perhaps you are right," he said, though I knew he didn't really believe that. "Come, the others are vaiting to hear vhat happened in Hogsmeade."

Sometimes it really irritated me that Viktor always thought he was right about things... But what irritated me even more . . . was that he was _always_ right about things...


	17. Chapter 16: Switzerland

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

 _Switzerland_

:.:.:

"Laĭna! Az ne go vyarvam!" Grigor shouted. **(** _ **Shit! I do not believe it**_ **)**

He and Draco had just finished a rather heated game of Exploding Snap on the ship, and when I say "heated," I don't mean that it was intense...Grigor was just getting really pissed at it... Although, considering a card had just exploded and singed off one of Grigor's eyebrows, I'd say it was also quite heated in that sense as well.

"Kak da poddŭrzham gubi?"

Draco looked to me for a translation.

"He said 'How do I keep losing?'" I told him.

Grigor then proceeded to say some rather vulgar things, not necessarily at Draco, just out of frustration.

"I'm not repeating that," I said to Draco when he looked to me for another translation.

He chuckled. "Sorry, mate, I've been playing since I was pretty young."

"As have I!" Grigor grumbled.

The lunch bell rang out across the grounds.

"Cheer up, Grigs," Finn encouraged, patting him on the back. "When we get back, we'll play something else. You any good at Wizard's Chess?"

"I am all right," he admitted, sadly.

"Well I'm complete rubbish so go easy on me," Finn told him. Grigor appeared to perk up a bit as we began walking off the ship.

"Draco," I said, hanging back a bit behind Grigor, Finn, and Viktor. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what's up?" he said casually.

"Be honest, all right?" I told him.

That was when he grew rather serious. "Of course," he said.

"Did you know about...my parents?"

Before he even gave a reply, I knew his answer. The way he'd faltered with his next step told me everything. And though we'd already been a good distance behind the other blokes, he hung back a bit more; I followed suit.

"It wasn't my place to tell you, Dem," he now spoke gravely and rather softly. "My father only told me because he didn't want me poking into the matter. He convinced me that it was a matter of yours and your grandfather's safety."

"I understand," I told him honestly. "I was just curious."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

I simply gave him a small smile in return, and he mirrored it though his was...sort of grim...as though he still felt horribly for keeping it from me. But he was right, I s'pose: it wasn't his place to tell me.

"Oi, try to keep up!" Finn called out to us. They were waiting at the Great Hall entrance and Draco and I rushed over. "If either of you have any Wizard's Chess expertise, I'd really appreciate some pointers."

"I thought the whole point of playing was so Grigor could win?" I asked.

"Well, it was but...I'm even more of a sore loser than he is."

When lunch had ended, I told the blokes I'd meet them back on the ship and that I just had to return the clothes I'd borrowed from George. That was also why I told them I'd brought a knapsack to lunch in the first place. The real reason was that I was going to see Sirius.

Once the blokes had walked off, I collected some of the extra food in my bag before making my way to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor on the third floor. I tapped the one-eyed witch's hump with my wand and gave the password, " _Dissendium_ ," revealing the secret passage which I followed all the way to the basement of Honeydukes, just as Ginny and I had done...just as I'd done when I went to meet my grandad...

I still wasn't even sure how I felt about that... Of course I understood why he did what he did, but to lie to me about it? He would've never told me the truth if I hadn't asked for it! He was the only family I had left and he betrayed me . . . for my safety . . . but I was still angry with him . . . though surely, I couldn't just cut him out of my life . . .

This internal struggle continued as I traveled the familiar path through Hogsmeade and then around the village's edge. Once I arrived at the stile, I hoped Sirius would be waiting, though I knew that wouldn't be the case. Regardless, I pressed on, climbing the mountain as I had just the day before. Though this time, I was much more conscience of the wound on my left side. But, luckily, it didn't give me much trouble, and I arrived at the cave's opening without reopening any stitches...though I _was_ rather out of breath. Merlin, even Viktor's intense Quidditch workouts couldn't prepare me for that mountain climb.

"Demetria," came Sirius, appearing before me, rather surprised. He looked as though he was just about to leave.

"I know you said not to come see you _but_ you were really only looking at the other three when you said that, _and_ you said not to go sneaking out of school but I didn't because I don't even go to Hogwarts..." I rushed out to defend myself; Sirius smirked.

"I was hoping you'd catch on to that," he told me. "Come on in."

I followed Sirius as he retreated back into the cave. After greeting Buckbeak with the same bow as I had yesterday, he allowed me to stroke his feathery neck just as he'd done with Hermione, but before doing so, I tossed Sirius the bag of food I'd brought.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," he said.

"So you knew I'd come back?"

"More so hoping," he admitted. "After all, there are some matters we need to discuss."

My heart sank a bit. "What sort of matters?" Death Eater matters?

"Well, for starters, I thought you'd like to hear a bit about your parents."

I mirrored the grin he was wearing, but only for a brief moment. "Yeah, Granda — Carlisle never spoke about them." My smile snapped back into a hard line, like a rubber band.

"Oh, I know," Sirius told me, bitterly. "He made it very clear to Remus and I that we were not to interfere in your life. We knew all about the lies he was telling you."

"And that was it? You just did as he said?" I asked, crestfallen.

"Dumbledore assured us it was what was best at the time," he explained, though seemingly just as disappointed. "But I take it he's finally told you the truth?"

"Only because I asked him about it," I spat. "If I hadn't, he admitted he wouldn't've ever told me. I know he's the only family I've got left but I don't reckon I can forgive him for that."

"I was on my own too when I was around your age," Sirius shared. "My family was still alive but... Well, I was always the black sheep. I'm sure you've heard about us — it wasn't a secret that the Blacks supported Voldemort. My parents favored my younger brother, Regulus...he ended up joining the Death Eaters... Anyway, my point is that when I was sixteen, I ran away and moved in with my best friend, Harry's dad, James. The Potters were more of a family to me than my own had ever been. Family isn't always about blood. As long as you've got people who care about you, that's all that matters."

"That's true, I do sort of have three brothers," I told him, thinking fondly of Viktor, Grigor, and Finn. I'd always considered Vik and Grig to be family for years, and though I'd really only just met Finn, he was growing to be a brother to me as well.

"There you go!" he said, fervently. "And you've got me and Remus too."

"You two were good friends with my parents?" I asked, quoting what Sirius had said yesterday.

"I was, we all were," he told me. "Me, Remus, James, Harry's mum Lily... Aiden and Lucy were close with everyone in our little group. Lucy and Lily were practically as close as James and I were... Y'know, I can't help but feel guilty..."

"Why's that?" I inquired.

"I got to spend so much time with them . . . for years . . . I got to really know them and . . . you didn't get any time at all," was his grave reply. "Same with Harry's parents..."

"Well, now you can tell me everything," I said in hopes of brightening his expression; it worked.

And Sirius did tell me _everything_ , at least everything he knew. I heard about how they all met, how they acted, pranks they pulled, trouble they got into, other people they'd dated... It was wonderful. And though I'd just learned so much about them, I still didn't feel like I knew them... Probably because I never had the chance to find out those things for myself... Nevertheless, it was still wonderful to actually know something about my parents other than how they looked on their wedding day.

I didn't stay too much longer; I didn't want the blokes worrying about me, after all. But I told Sirius I'd be back the next day after Karkaroff's class.

Oh, right, forgot to mention Karkaroff begun giving short lessons on various subjects since we were missing an entire year's worth of classes at school. I suggested we just sit in on some of the classes at Hogwarts but Karkaroff insisted they couldn't match our curriculum.

Anyway... So the following day I made the hike back to Sirius's cave. He was happy to have some company other than Buckbeak (and some food other than rats), and I was certainly happy to talk about my parents, his time at Hogwarts, the First Wizarding War, the Order of the Phoenix, anything really. Pretty soon, visiting Sirius had become sort of a daily pastime. No one knew about it though, not even Harry. The blokes always thought I was with Cedric and Cedric always thought I was with the blokes. I just figured it would be better that way rather than saying I was visiting a long-lost family member and escaped criminal who was residing in the mountains.

By the last week of May, I had quite an enjoyable little schedule for myself. I didn't even mind the addition of Karkaroff's lessons, because I actually did like to learn and Karkaroff was always rather entertaining. I was also glad he never asked me about what Snape had brought up in his office...I suppose he didn't really have to. But just when I'd practically forgotten all about the very thing that brought me to Hogwarts in the first place, that was when it reared its ugly head: the tournament. Karkaroff approached me just before I could exit the Great Hall after lunch, that day.

"Demetria, I have just been informed that you are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," he told me rather fervently. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

"Ace, I'll be there, Professor," I assured him before making my way to the secret passage to Honeydukes.

–

I spent another afternoon with Sirius until the sun began to tuck itself away.

"Y'know, I really don't like you coming all the way out here by yourself," he said, gravely.

"You say that every time, but I can take care of myself," I insisted. "It's not exactly a rough neighborhood or anything."

He chuckled. It _was_ only Hogsmeade.

"Alright, safe travels."

We hugged and he transformed into Snuffles, the shaggy black dog, walking me to the stile. That was where we parted ways, as usual, but this time I guess he really didn't want me walking alone because I swore I could hear footsteps trotting along other than my own. Every time, I turned and called out to him (by Snuffles, of course, not Sirius), but there was never a reply or any sign of him, or anyone. I continued down the path until I was just outside of Hogsmeade, and then I heard the footsteps again.

"Snuff —"

Darkness.

–

Fire — that was the first thing I noticed when I woke up. I couldn't even seem to remember what had happened... I was walking along, and then I turned because I thought I'd heard Sirius, but...someone had knocked me out...

I found myself sitting in an armchair in front of a blazing fireplace, and though there was nothing physically restraining me, I couldn't move, which was probably the work of the Full Body-Bind Curse. I s'pose Hogsmeade wasn't all too safe after all...

"Ah, the guest of honor is finally awake."

Though I could see nothing but the flames in front of me, I knew exactly who was speaking and exactly who'd kidnapped me — Dolohov. If I'd been able to move my mouth, I would've spat out his name. He moved into my line of sight, though only out of the corner of my eye, and sat on the chair's arm.

"We have some unfinished business, Harris," he said, wickedly. "Now, I do apologize for the Body-Bind Curse, but there are some things you need to hear and I know how much you love running that ickle mouth of yours and interrupting people."

Even if I could've expressed any sign of irritation, I didn't, didn't even roll my eyes, although I could've done that. He wasn't going to get any sort of reaction out of me.

"I must say, I rather enjoy this Harris," Dolohov continued to speak silkily, as some people would've described it. I, however, knew better. I knew his tone was really just honey poured over shards of ice. "She's far more...obedient." He placed his hand on my shoulder and took his time running it down the length of my arm.

He snickered, suddenly grabbing hold of my wrist and turning my left arm so my inner forearm faced upwards. "I never did tell the Dark Lord about your little screw up, and don't worry, you can thank me for that later. But if I were you, Harris, I wouldn't let it happen again. Behavior like that simply cannot be tolerated... Besides, what sort of message does it send?"

Dolohov had retrieved his wand and began pressing the tip into my forearm. "I'll tell you what — treachery. Disloyalty. Betrayal. See, 'cause I'm beginning to think you, Daddy dearest, and good old Grandad are just playing us all for fools."

I was suddenly very thankful that he'd placed the Body-Bind Curse on me, because I knew that if I had control over my body, something in my stoic facial expression was sure to've slipped.

"Alright, now comes the fun part," he continued, removing his wand from my arm and getting up from the chair. He was standing right in front of me, now. "We're going to see who's side you're on, and if you make the right decision . . . you and Grandad live to see another day..."

Grandad? Did he have him paralyzed somewhere too? Was he in danger? Well, of course he was! I was too!

"So, little Harris . . . are you with us?" said Dolohov, moving his wand right back to the undoubted mark he must've left on my left forearm. "Blink once for yes and twice for no."

I knew what I had to choose... I didn't want to, Merlin knows, but...Grandad was right — it would be stubborn and selfish to refuse . . . So I knew I had to take what I'd told him was the coward's way out...

My eyes being the only part of my body that I was able to move, I shut them for a significant amount of time in order to distinguish between a regular blink and a blink that would essentially change my life... When I opened my eyes, Dolohov continued to stare at me, possibly waiting for me to shut my eyes once again. And although I longed to, I didn't. After a moment, he twisted his mouth up into a sinister grin.

"Excellent choice," he said, very obviously pleased. "Then I trust you will not do anything stupid if I do this..."

He lifted the curse; I slumped into the armchair. Again, he watched me, but I didn't make any moves. This brought another smirk to his face.

"I see you've decided to wise up since we last met," he cynically cooed. "Now then, there's still the matter of a proper initiation but it wouldn't hurt to make it official, eh?"

I glanced over to where his wand was poking into my forearm, the forearm that would no longer be a clean slate... From that day on, it would bear the Mark, hold home to Darkness — Unless...

The corners of my lips flicked upward to form my own small smirk. Dolohov took that to mean I was on board.

"See how much easier things are when you cooperate?" he patronized.

Looking to my arm again, Dolohov's wand was still pressed to it, only now there was, what looked like, black ink feathering out from it. It started to burn and sting, but in an instant, my forearm began to glow and then returned to being a clean slate, just like what happened with Mum.

Dolohov's smirk slowly sunk, and when he looked to me, I made sure I was left with no trace of a smirk either.

"Did you do that?" he asked, slowly and menacingly.

I shook my head rapidly, feigning fear.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, the smirk back again. "You are your mother's daughter."

 _He knows about that? Relax, Dem, I'm sure they all bloody know about it... it doesn't mean Dolohov's the one who did it..._

"Antonin —" someone came casually strolling into the room: Benjamin. "— Demetria," he caught sight of me and then turned back to Dolohov, angry. "What in Salazar's name are you doing?"

Dolohov began chuckling, darkly. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing," he assured Benjamin before turning back to me. "Don't get too comfortable in Switzerland, Harris. You can't remain neutral forever."

He then retrieved a goblet from the fireplace mantel and tossed it into my lap. "See you soon, Harris."

Before I'd even had the chance to say goodbye to Benjamin, or say anything, really, I'd picked up the goblet and felt as though I was being pulled to my destination. The goblet turned out to be a Portkey which brought me back to Hogsmeade, right where I last remembered being.

I'd made it back to Hogwarts at around half past eight, and figured that was as good a time as any to head down to the Quidditch pitch. On the way down one of the staircases, I crossed paths with Harry, and once we'd crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked us, the three of us walking together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. I was rather exhausted from all of the walking I'd done that day already, but I did my best not to show it. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, incredulously. "With the way these tasks have gone so far, I reckon it's got to be something far worse than what we've already faced."

We walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field.

"What've they done to it?" Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead.

I'd only been to this school's Quidditch pitch once before, but even I could tell it looked absolutely nothing like it had before. The field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Fleur. Harry, Cedric, and I made our way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Harry as he came nearer. I reckoned that was on account of Harry "rescuing" Fleur's sister from the lake. Her attitude toward him seemed to've completely changed, and speaking of, she gave me a polite smile upon catching my eye. It was about time Phlegm quit being a thorn in my side.

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as the three of us climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on both Harry and Cedric's faces. "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment, and I wasn't sure if they simply didn't want to or if they truly didn't know.

"It's a maze," I said airily.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman gleefully, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

 _Of course, there's always a catch_ , I groaned internally.

"Hagrid is providing a number of creatures . . . then there will be spells that must be broken . . . all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Harry and I. "Then Mr. Diggory will enter . . . then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

I wasn't entirely sure what creatures we'd be up against, but as long they weren't hiding any merpeople in that maze, I wasn't too worried. And breaking spells? That sounded like fun on its own. I always rather enjoyed puzzles; Curse Breaker was one of the careers Grandad had tried to talk me into pursuing rather than professional Quidditch player. Thinking of Grandad automatically brought my mind racing back to what had just happened with Dolohov not too long ago. Thankfully, Bagman pulled me from my thoughts.

"Very well . . . if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly. . ."

As we all began to wend our way out of the growing maze, Harry appeared right alongside me.

"So has Viktor been bad-mouthing me all over the ship?" he asked, seemingly only half-joking.

"What?" I actually gave a laugh. "No, why would he do that?"

"You haven't seen Rita Skeeter's article in _Witch Weekly_?" he asked rather sheepishly.

I shook my head. "I wouldn't've even seen the article she wrote about _me_ if it hadn't been for George," I told him. "Why?"

"I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?" came Bagman, looking slightly perturbed.

"No, it's okay, Mr. Bagman," said Harry. "I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks."

With that, Bagman continued on for the castle while Harry and I walked out of the stadium and toward the forest.

"Wow, he really does want you to win, doesn't he?" I said, amused. Harry rolled his eyes. "So what was this article about?"

"You mean he hasn't even mentioned it?" he inquired, surprised.

"No, what'd it say?" I asked, somewhat impatiently.

"Nothing true," Harry grunted. "Well, except the part about Viktor asking Hermione to visit him over the summer. Hermione said he'd asked her that when no one else was around though, so I dunno how Rita found out."

"Y'know, I didn't tell her anything she wrote in that article about me," I said. "I told Cedric all of that when no one was around..."

"Really? Well, Hermione's determined to find out how she's getting all of this information," Harry told me as we reached a quiet stretch of ground a short way from the Beauxbatons horses' paddock. "Because of that article, Hermione's been getting all sorts of threatening letters from mental fan girls."

I was about to ask why, but Harry continued.

"Rita said there was a love triangle going on between Hermione, Viktor, and I," he explained. "I know Viktor really likes her and I just wanted to make sure he knew Hermione and I are just friends."

I thought back to when Viktor was telling me that Hermione and Ron were meant to be together...

"Oh, trust me, he knows," I assured Harry.

He seemed to physically relax upon hearing that. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. "I wouldn't want Viktor to hate m —"

Suddenly, something caught Harry's eye from behind me and he immediately grabbed my arm and pulled me around him.

"What is it?" I asked urgently.

Harry shook his head, staring dead ahead into the forest. I stared too and didn't see anything . . . but _then_ I did. A man staggered out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, I wasn't sure who it was, but then I recognized him — Mr. Crouch.

He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see.

Harry and I exchanged a brief glance before walking slowly toward Mr. Crouch, who did not look at either of us, but continued to talk to a nearby tree.

"...and when you've done that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve..."

"Mr. Crouch...?" said Harry cautiously.

"...and then send another owl to Madame Maxime, because she might want to up the number of students she's bringing, now Karkaroff's made it a round dozen . . . do that, Weatherby, will you? Will you? Will..."

Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulding. He stood staring at the tree, muttering soundlessly at it. Then he staggered sideways and fell to his knees.

"Mr. Crouch?" I spoke loudly. "Are you all right?"

Crouch's eyes were rolling in his head; Harry looked to me again.

"Demetria, you'd better go and get someone —"

"Dumbledore!" gasped Mr. Crouch. He reached out and seized a handful of Harry's robes, dragging him closer, though his eyes were staring over Harry's head. "I need . . . see . . . Dumbledore. . ."

"Okay," said Harry calmly. "if you get up, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the —"

"I've done . . . stupid . . . thing . . ." Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, a trickle of spittle sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. "Must . . . tell . . . Dumbledore. . ."

"Mr. Crouch, you've got to get up," I told him loudly and clearly.

"Yes, get up and we'll take you to Dumbledore!"

Crouch's eyes finally rolled forward onto Harry and I.

"Who . . . you?" he whispered.

"We're students," Harry told him.

"You're not... _his_?" whispered Crouch, his mouth sagging.

Harry and I shared the same confused expression.

"No," Harry told Crouch anyway.

"Dumbledore's?"

"That's right."

 _What the sodding hell is he on about?_

Crouch was pulling Harry closer; I could see Harry struggling to loosen Crouch's grip on his robes, but he was unsuccessful.

"Warn...Dumbledore..."

"Mr. Crouch, if you let go, we can get Dumbledore for you," I tried to reason with him; he released Harry.

"Thank you, Weatherby, and when you have done that, I would like a cup of tea. My wife and son will be arriving shortly, we are attending a concert tonight with Mr. and Mrs. Fudge."

Crouch was now talking fluently to a tree again, and seemed completely unaware that Harry and I were there.

"Yes, my son has recently gained twelve O.W.L.s, most satisfactory, yes, thank you, yes, very proud indeed. Now, if you could bring me that memo from the Andorran Minister of Magic, I think I will have time to draft a response..."

"You stay here with him!" Harry instructed me. "I'll get Dumbledore, I dunno if you know where his office is —"

"I'll be fine, Harry, go," I assured him.

I did know where Dumbledore's office was but it wouldn't help anyone to stand around and argue over which of us got to leave and which had to stay with the madman.

Harry started to leave, but his movement seemed to trigger another abrupt change in Mr. Crouch, who seized him hard around the knees and pulled Harry to the ground.

"Don't . . . leave . . . me!" he whispered, his eyes bulging again. "I . . . escaped . . . must warn . . . must tell . . . see Dumbledore . . . my fault . . . all my fault . . . Bertha . . . dead . . . all my fault . . . my son . . . my fault . . . tell Dumbledore . . . Harry Potter . . . the Dark Lord . . . stronger . . . Harry Potter . . ."

"I'll get Dumbledore if you let me go, Mr. Crouch!" said Harry.

"Mr. Crouch, you've got to let go," I said, squatting down next to Crouch. " _I'll_ stay here with you and _he'll_ go get Dumbledore."

Mr. Crouch didn't look at me, but he apparently was listening because he released his grip on Harry.

"Hurry," I told Harry; he nodded before breaking into a sprint away from us.

"Dumbledore . . . must tell Dumbledore . . ." Crouch continued to mutter. "my son . . . my son . . ."

"You saved your son." I stated it matter-of-factly, and it got his attention. Crouch finally looked to me.

"My son . . . I saved . . . I . . . Imperius Curse . . . Invisibility Cloak . . ."

"I know, I know," I told him, calmly. "You did what you thought was best. You wanted to keep him safe."

Crouch actually looked as though he understood. His eyes were still bulging but what I was saying was clicking in his mind, I could see that in his eyes as well.

"But Bertha . . ." he continued. "Bertha came . . . Bertha knew . . . Memory Charm . . ."

Something clicked in my own head then, as well.

"Bertha found out about Barty and you placed a Memory Charm on her," I discovered. "Then she ran into Wormtail..." And was killed...

Just then, I thought I heard someone, but everything that happened next occured far too fast for me to react or defend myself. I had been looking at Crouch who was nodding rapidly, but suddenly someone came up from behind me, and the next thing I knew, I was unconscious...again.

—

When I woke up, I half-expected to be back in that armchair in front of a fireplace with Dolohov... Luckily, I wasn't, and I also wasn't in the Full Body-Bind Curse. I was laying on the forest floor, and I saw Dumbledore hovering over me. When I tried to sit up, he put a hand on my shoulder.

"Lie still for a moment, Demetria," he said; I did.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached us, then, and though I couldn't see who it was, I assumed it was either Madame Maxime or Hagrid...and I was really hoping it was the latter.

"Professor Dumbledore!" It was Hagrid, and it sounded as though he had a dog with him. "Harry — what the — ?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," said Dumbledore. "His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody —"

"No need, Dumbledore," came a wheezy growl. "I'm here. Damn leg. Would've been here quicker . . . what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch —"

"Crouch?" said Hagrid blankly.

"Karkaroff please, Hagrid!" said Dumbledore sharply.

"Oh yeah . . . right y'are, Professor . . ." said Hagrid, the sound of his footsteps growing more faint as he presumably disappeared.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody. "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody growled. I could detect the sound of his own disappearing footsteps as well.

Nobody spoke again until we heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and his dog returning. Karkaroff was immediately at my side.

"What is this?" he cried. "What is going on?"

"Demetria was Stunned by Mr. Crouch —" Dumbledore explained.

" _Crouch_?" Karkaroff parroted, irate. "The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his sleek silver furs around him, looking livid.

"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of —"

"It wasn't Crouch!" I said, finally able to sit up. Everyone looked to me in surprise, as though they'd forgotten I was there. "I was looking right at him when it happened. Someone else came up from behind me."

"You're certain of this?" Dumbledore asked me.

"One hundred percent, sir," I said.

"An accomplice, then!" Karkaroff continued. I rolled my eyes; he was always one for theatrics. "Someone wished to take out my champion because she is tied for first place! First they sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now _this_?!"

"Professor, I was _Stunned_ , their aim clearly wasn't to take me out," I insisted, getting up from the ground. "But you know who I bet they _were_ after...?"

"Crouch?" said Harry. "But who'd want to take out Crouch?"

Once again, the wheels in my brain clicked. My eyes grew wide as I looked to Dumbledore, his blue eyes already twinkling in my direction.

"Kindly escort Harry back up to the castle, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. "Take him right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry — I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do — any owls you might want to send — they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er — yes," said Harry. He was probably just thinking about sending a letter to Sirius about what just happened...

"Alright then, c'mon, Harry," Hagrid said, his dog following as he and Harry marched off. When they were seemingly out of earshot, Dumbledore looked to me again.

"Demetria, you have an idea of who would wish to cause harm to Barty Crouch?" he asked me urgently.

Karkaroff and I exchanged a glance before I answered; it was clear he didn't want me to tell, what with the way his eyes were practically bulging from their sockets.

"His son," I told Dumbledore.

"Demetria, that is preposterous!" Karkaroff immediately insisted.

"Igor, perhaps you could give Demetria and I a moment?" Dumbledore said, still sounding a bit on-edge. "You have my word that no more harm will come to her this evening. I will bring her back to the ship, myself."

Karkaroff obviously didn't want to leave, but he also didn't want to argue, so he reluctantly agreed and began walking away.

"Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban shortly after 1981," said Dumbledore, although he didn't seem to think what I'd just said was preposterous...but _I_ did.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with me? I didn't mention a word of this to Sirius and the Golden Trio back in the cave the other day, but now there I was, ready to confess my secret Death Eater knowledge to Albus Dumbledore. Although...this was different... After all, this wasn't just about giving answers to some meddlesome group of teenagers. Telling Dumbledore would ensure everyone's safety at Hogwarts, and considering Grindelwald-only-knows what just happened to Crouch Sr., I thought it would be best if someone finally knew.

"Someone who looked an awful lot _like_ Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban shortly after 1981," I said.

Dumbledore took a glance around before saying, "Perhaps we should take a walk?" We began making our way toward the stadium and I didn't wait for Dumbledore to make any inquiries, I simply answered his unasked questions.

I told him everything I knew — Well, not _everything_ — but I did tell him about Barty Crouch Sr. sneaking his son out, replacing him with his wife under the Polyjuice Potion, keeping him under the Imperius Curse and the Invisibility Cloak, and also — because he wanted to confess it to Dumbledore, anyway — that he placed a Memory Charm on Bertha Jorkins when she discovered the truth about Barty Jr.

Dumbledore just looked at me, thoughtfully, for a moment. I'd told him just enough so that he knew to be on the lookout for Barty, but I couldn't help feeling that maybe he knew there were parts I'd left out . . . like how I'd "forgot" to mention Barty Jr. was at the Quidditch World Cup and cast the Dark Mark...or that I knew how and why Bertha died... I hated to admit it, but Dolohov was right about one thing: I _was_ Switzerland — playing both sides for as long as I possibly could, but walking behind enemy lines.

"Where did you — ?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'd rather not say how I know this," I politely told him.

"I understand, and I trust your sources are reliable."

I wasn't sure what it was, perhaps just the way he was looking at me or even his tone, but I was almost positive he knew exactly who my source was... I seemed to recall him knowing a thing or two about Grandad, anyway. And if he knew about Snape, he must've also known about me... Did that mean he knew about Karkaroff too?

"We will not draw any outside attention to this," he told me cautiously. Oh, he definitely knew about me, and was helping me so I wouldn't be punished for being the rat that let the Barty Crouch Jr. secret slip. "but all Hogwarts staff will be notified, students' curfews strictly enforced, and certainly no wandering the grounds unsupervised... We will take the necessary precautions without alerting anyone. Barty Crouch Jr. is in the area."

"You believe me, then, sir?" I asked because I was genuinely sort of taken aback.

"I see no reason for you to lie about something of this severity, and I am aware of how great the risk is for you to have told me in the first place," he explained before cracking a small smile. "You needn't worry, Demetria, I have a fairly good idea of who I can and cannot trust."

"Well you trust Snape, so..." So perhaps Severus Snape was another one of us who joined the Dark side against their wishes... "Sorry, sir, never mind."

"No harm done," he assured me, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Now then, I promised Karkaroff the safe return of his champion. Shall we?"

Dumbledore walked me back to the ship where Karkaroff had been anxiously awaiting my return. He remained calm until Dumbledore had left us and I'd climbed aboard the ship. Karkaroff, then, immediately grabbed me by the shoulders.

"Demetria, what did you tell him?" he asked urgently.

"Nothing, I swear, I said I didn't know his son was dead," I made up.

Karkaroff relaxed. "Do not scare me like that again," he said. "Now, this attack, are you hurt?"

"No," I said, but he continued to stare, worried. "Honestly, Professor, I'm all right."

"Good, good," he calmed down even more. "Well, you have had an eventful night. Best to get some rest, eh? God natt, champion."

"God natt, sir."

Karkaroff retired to his cabin and I descended below the ship's deck. A few blokes were sleeping, but most were awake, lights were all out though. When I made it to the bunk I shared with Viktor, though, I found someone was already in my top bunk.

"Finn?" I guessed in the darkness.

"Guess again," they said.

I laughed. "Cedric, what're you doing here?"

"I've been waiting for you," he said. "I was hoping to catch you when we were leaving the stadium, but you walked off with Harry."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't even know..."

"It's alright," he assured me, climbing down from my bunk. "Come with me."

I followed him back up on to the deck.

"Is everything okay, though? You took a long time..."

"Yeah, Harry just wanted to talk about something," I told him. Honestly, I really didn't want to go into recounting the Crouch story.

Cedric started making his way off the ship.

"Where're you going?" I asked.

"You mean, where're _we_ going," he corrected with a grin.

"It's way past curfew, you shouldn't even be here," I reminded him, smirking.

He chuckled. "Come on, I promise it'll be worth it."

I followed Cedric as we moved soundlessly through the castle, and finally arrived at a part of the castle I'd yet to see — the Astronomy Tower.

"Professor Sinistra usually teaches Astronomy here at midnight, but there's no class tonight," Cedric explained, leading me through the threshold. "The tower _is_ technically out-of-bounds right now."

"Wow, you're just breaking _all_ the rules for me, aren't you?" I teased.

"Don't worry, I'm handing in my prefect badge first thing tomorrow," he told me in jest; I giggled and followed him as he placed a rather fluffy blanket down just in front of the balcony's parapet. Laying down on it, I actually couldn't feel the hard ground that was beneath us.

"You were right," I said, staring up at the countless stars in the sky. "this was worth it."

"The view's only part of it," he told me, looking into my eyes rather intensely. "There was actually something I wanted to talk about."

I sat up and faced him. "What's up?" I matched his seriousness.

"It's nothing bad...I hope..." he cracked a smile; I did too. "Well, three months ago, you were rather worried about where we'd be four months from then... And, I know we've still got that one month left," I laughed again. "and I dunno about you, but...I know _now_...I want to make it work. Yeah, Norway's far, but I've learned Apparation this year and —"

I kissed him for a long time, until I finally couldn't contain my smile, and he matched it, breaking away.

"There was one other thing I wanted to mention," he said softly.

"Oh no, is it bad news...?" I asked. "Did you just tell me the good news first so I wouldn't —"

"Demetria," he said, still grinning. "I love you," My heart skipped. "I hope that's also good news..."

"That's even better news," I said through a breath of laughter. I couldn't stop smiling. "I love you too."

He gently cupped my face in his hands and placed his lips back on mine. We moved to lay down together, still wrapped up in one another, and... Well, he was right, it was certainly worth it...


	18. Chapter 17: The White Room

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

 _The White Room_

:.:.:

As much as I would've loved to have stayed in the Astronomy Tower the previous night and woken up next to Cedric, we both decided that might not be the best idea in case we were caught. But despite waking up in my bunk on the ship, I still couldn't stop smiling. It was also rather early when I woke up because I wanted to send a note to Sirius before breakfast. And although I was absolutely positive that's exactly what Harry would be doing, I also wanted to tell him that it might not be best for me to visit so frequently considering my run-in with Dolohov. I also took that opportunity to _finally_ gather up George's clothes and return them to him. And speaking of George, I ran into the twins before I'd even arrived at the Fat Lady...

"Good morning, Your Highness," said Fred, bowing excessively low. George eyed me carefully to see if I was okay with the royalty joke; I smiled to assure him that I was. "What brings you to Gryffindor Tower so early?"

"I thought I'd finally return your brother's clothes," I said, holding up the bag in my hand.

"Oh, you've been borrowing Ron's clothes? Couldn't even tell a difference, honestly, you two've got the same style," Fred said in jest.

"You do, it's remarkable, really," George joined in. I tossed him the bag, smirking. "Thanks, Tri."

Hearing that nickname always gave me a weird feeling in my chest, but it was wonderfully weird, sort of like butterflies or something. And though I was sort of expecting some comment from Fred on the nickname, I figured by the way he looked at George that he'd already told his twin about it.

"I'll just bring this back to our dormitory and then we can go," George told him, rushing down the hall to enter the common room.

"Where're you off to?" I inquired.

"The Owlery," Fred replied.

"Ace, me too," I said, grinning. "I'll go with you."

"I dunno, Dem, it's top secret business," Fred spoke in a way which actually made me think he might not have been kidding.

"What're you on about, Weasley?" I eyed him curiously.

"All right, enough with the interrogation, I'll tell you," he said fervently, feigning defeat. "Georgie and I made a bet with Ludo Bagman at the Quidditch World Cup on the game's outcome. He lost and has been refusing to pay us. Well, technically, not refusing, just not responding to us at all."

"He didn't pay you?" I asked, incredulously.

"Oh he paid us...in leprechaun gold," said Fred, bitterly. I nodded in understanding; leprechaun gold disappears after a few hours.

"How much does he owe you?"

"Thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts —"

"And a joke wand," added George, back from his dormitory. "We were hoping to finally start up the joke shop with that money." I remembered they'd told me about their pranking business.

We began walking to the Owlery together.

"Y'know, I reckon we've searched nearly every inch of this castle, including all the secret passages," said George to Fred. "and yet we've never stepped foot in any other common room but our own. Demetria's only been here a few months and she's already practically been everywhere."

"I really haven't been to that many places around here," I insisted. "More so the hospital wing than anywhere else."

"Yeah right," teased Fred. "Tell us, what's the Hufflepuff common room like?"

"I've actually never been there," I admitted.

"You're joking!" said Fred. "Pretty Boy's never invited you over?"

"Pretty Boy's also _Prefect_ Pretty Boy," George joked. "He doesn't break the rules like we do."

"I'll have you know he's broken some rules with me," I said, smirking. I thought back to the previous night and hoped I hadn't grown as noticably red as George's ears when he was embarrassed.

"That's only because you're such a bad influence," said George, mirroring the smirk. I thanked Merlin my blush wasn't noticable.

"I just can't believe you've been in _our_ room more than your boyfriend's, Dem," Fred joked. "I take it that means you two haven't —"

"Fred!" George shouted; my face really began to heat up and Fred practically exploded with laughter...until he caught sight of my blushing.

" _Princess_!" Fred exclaimed before whistling. "Y'know, I _thought_ you seemed rather chipper this morning."

George's expression immediately soured and I rushed to change the subject.

"So if Bagman's been ignoring you, why would a letter get his attention?" I rushed out.

Fred replied with, "Can't say, love, that's the top secret business."

"Fred, you're not really going to send _that_ , are you?" said George, suddenly very serious.

"Why not?" he asked, casually.

"That's blackmail, that is," George told him. "we could get into a lot of trouble for that —"

"— we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did —"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!" George pressed; I decided it was better to just not even ask.

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

Upon reaching the Owlery, Fred banged the door open. The three of us came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.

"Sending a letter," said Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" I said with Hermione.

The twins and I grinned.

"Fine — we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," Fred said, shifting his hand to cover the name on the sealed envelope he was holding.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," he said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Ron didn't move. "Who're you blackmailing?" he said.

The grin vanished from Fred's face; George gave his twin half a glance before smiling at Ron.

"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," he said easily.

"Didn't sound like that," said Ron.

Fred and George looked at each other, then Fred abruptly said, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but —"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," Ron insisted. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Told you, I was joking," said George. I didn't believe him, and I was sure Ron didn't either, but I wasn't going to say anything. I just hoped those two knew what they were doing.

When the twins began attaching their letter to the leg of the nearest barn owl, I did the same, mostly because the focus was still on them and the trio wouldn't ask about my own letter.

"You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron," said George. "Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

"No, I won't!" said Ron hotly.

George and I were both at the window, then, our owls taking off through it. For a split second, he seemed distracted by me, but he quickly recovered, turning around and grinning at Ron.

"Well, stop telling people what to do then."

"Oh, sod off, you two," I said as light-heartedly as I could manage. I'd never realized how mean-spirited the twins could be to their younger brother. I didn't have any blood-related siblings, but that didn't seem like playful banter. After all, he was just worried about them, he cared about his older brothers, what was so wrong with that?

"Ignore them, Ron, you're nothing like Percy," I assured him; he gave me a thankful smile.

"Oi, whose side are you on, Dem?" said Fred.

"Ron's," I told him honestly. "You better not be getting yourselves into trouble... Wow, that was a stupid thing to say to _you_ two."

They were both smirking at me now.

"You know what I mean," I said. "I know you don't mind breaking rules, but this is the _law_."

The twins exchanged a look.

"I reckon we know who the other prefect is going to be," Fred teased.

"I don't go to this school," I reminded in sort of a lofty tone. He'd have to try harder than that if he wished to get under my skin. "And I'd rather enjoy being chosen to have some authority over everyone."

"You already do, _Your Majesty_." Fred smirked.

"You _should_ go to this school," Hermione chimed in, changing the subject. "I'm sure your classes at Durmstrang would transfer over."

"We've been trying to convince her to transfer since she first stepped off the ship!" George exclaimed. I rolled my eyes at him. "Alright, maybe since a few days _after_ you first stepped off the ship..."

"Even if she did transfer, we probably wouldn't get to see her much," said Ron. We all waited for an explanation and Ron looked to me when he spoke again. "You'd definitely be a Ravenclaw. Ginny told me you're actually taking the _fifth_ year Potions class."

"Just because she's really smart doesn't mean she'd automatically be in Ravenclaw," said Hermione, voice on-edge. "There are some rather intelligent Gryffindors."

"That's true," I immediately chimed in before Ron could do anymore damage. "And my mum was actually a Gryffindor, so who knows." As though I'd ever even transfer in the first place...

"What about your dad?" Harry inquired.

"Slytherin," I told them. And though I'd expected some sort of comment from the twins or perhaps just a disapproving look from one of the Golden Trio members, nothing of that sort happened.

"No wonder you're so good at Potions," said Fred.

"Speaking of Potions," Harry's voice was calm but his eyes were looking at me sort of urgently. "Demetria, d'you reckon I could get some of that tutoring you mentioned?"

The tutoring I'd made up when Karkaroff was passing by us so we could look engaged in a normal conversation? Why would he . . . Oh, he wanted to talk about last night . . . Sweet Circe, that kid just never gave up...

"Actually, Harry, I don't reckon you really need any tutoring after all," I told him, keeping my tone casual.

"She's right, Harry, you're not even that bad at Potions," said Ron, patting his mate's shoulder.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to improve your skills," said Hermione, clearly irritated again.

"No, there's not," I said, rushing to Hermione's aid once again. "but Harry's asked me to teach him how to concoct the Draught of Living Death. It's a rather advanced potion and he hasn't got any real use for it."

Harry and I were staring at one another, the only ones aware of what this conversation was really about. He was trying just as hardly as I was to keep his tone light, but I could tell he was growing upset with me.

"I'm sorry, Demetria, but who are you to decide whether or not I've got a use for it?" he said.

"Harry, trust me, you'll learn to make the Draught of Living Death if the time comes." I was growing rather annoyed with _him_ as well.

"I reckon that's a sixth year potion, mate," said Ron softly.

"I have reason to believe I should know how to make it now." Harry's eyes never left mine.

"If that were true, someone would've taught it to you already," I said, irritation just barely in check. "You don't have to go poking and prodding around, learning about every potion. Sometimes it's just better _not_ to know. And y'know what? There are dangers about the Draught that you know nothing about. Meanwhile, other people's lives are at risk just for simply _knowing_ about the Draught, not to mention the risks involved for the one bloody person who was _daft_ enough to _make_ it!"

Harry's green eyes lightened up a bit, they weren't so harsh anymore. It seemed he understood what I meant, that I'd ultimately put both myself and my grandfather at risk for telling Dumbledore what I knew. Hermione, Ron, Fred, and George were all still looking at me like I was mental, though. After all, I'd just completely exploded over what appeared to just be a potion...which really wasn't all that dangerous.

"You're right, I'm sorry," Harry whispered.

I nodded and simply left. I didn't really want to walk back down with the twins, I knew they'd only ask me what happened back there. Thankfully, if they did leave after me, which I was sure they did, they didn't try to speak to me. There was, however, someone else who did want to speak to me, though this was someone I never expected.

"Demetria Harris," growled Moody. His magical eye rolled every which way, probably to ensure no one else was around.

"Er, Professor Moody." I wasn't entirely sure what to call him. I wasn't really sure what to call any of the Hogwarts staff when I came in contact with them. After all, they weren't _my_ professors.

"Walk with me."

I thought I had a fairly good idea of what this was about, but I was still sort of anxious, probably simply due to Moody's rather intimidating appearance. His face looked as though it were carved roughly from stone, covered with scars. Regardless, I walked alongside Moody and his clunking wooden leg.

"Told Dumbledore you think Crouch's son is alive, did you?"

That had been the conversation topic I was expecting.

"I have reason to believe he is," I said finitely; we began descending down a number of connecting staircases.

"Dumbledore mentioned you had reliable sources..." he said airily.

"He told you it was me?" I was hoping he would've left my identity out.

"No."

I waited for more of an explanation, but he didn't give one.

"How'd you know it was me then?" I pressed.

"You're not the only one with reliable sources, Harris," he said. Moody was a rather hard character to read. I wasn't entirely sure what emotion was attached to his words, and that began to worry me even more. But even so, an Auror knowing I was on the Dark side . . . that couldn't've been good . . .

"I'm afraid I'll have to know who these sources are," he growled.

I looked him right in his good eye, although it could really only be considered good in comparison to the magical one. "I'm afraid I can't say."

He took a long draw from his hip flask before telling me, "You'll be needing protection, no doubt. I can provide it if I know who I'm looking for."

The bell sounded for breakfast.

"You're right," I said, Moody perking up to listen. "Be on the lookout for someone whose not a student or a staff member," His expression immediately soured. "If they don't look like they belong at Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, it's a good bet that's who I'll need protection from."

People began making their way toward the Great Hall, while Moody and I remained in the entrance hall.

"Your father had that same attitude," he said, taking another swig of his flask. "I'd drop it if I were you. Get yourself into trouble with the wrong people if you're not careful."

"I'm already in trouble with the wrong people, remember?" I said, unphased by his comment.

Just as I was about to walk away, Moody spoke again.

"Reckon I know whose side you're on."

"Is that s'posed to scare me?"

But he didn't reply, just twisted his face up into a smirk and clunked off toward the Great Hall.

Truth be told, though, it _did_ scare me a little.

–

When I'd gotten Sirius's reply (the very next morning after I'd sent mine, by the way), he was rather upset, mostly at himself, not me; said he should've known better than to let me travel to the cave and back by myself. He also agreed it would be best for me to stop visiting for the time being, to practice some hexes for the third task, and then also suggested I keep an eye on Harry. As it turned out, however, there was no need to babysit The Boy Who Lived, because every time I saw him, he was guarded by Ron and Hermione; I knew he was already in good hands. It also helped that Dumbledore was enforcing restrictions on the grounds.

As for practicing hexes, I mentioned it to Viktor who, of course, was teaching me some more advanced spells. It wasn't nearly as tedious or difficult as self-Transfiguring though, so there wasn't any need for really vigorous training. Unfortunately, that meant I was back to having nothing to do...

"Maybe you could try and ask your grandad if he knows where Remus is," Finn suggested during one of Karkaroff's "lessons." I used that term very loosely because he seemed particularly distracted today and wasn't doing much teaching at all. No one was really paying much attention, except his aide, Sasha, of course.

"I know you're not really on speaking terms, but —"

"Or I could just see if Benjamin knows," I said. "Maybe have _him_ ask Carlisle."

"Yeah, maybe." Finn frowned. Being the family-oriented bloke that he was, he didn't really approve of me shunning my grandfather, despite my reasoning.

"Right, so, now on to . . . er . . . Jupiter's moons —" Karkaroff kept fidgeting with the sleeve on his left arm. I knew it had to be the Dark Mark that was giving him so much trouble.

"Professor, we haff already learned that," said Sergei, a sixth year.

"Ve haff not!" came Aleksander, a fellow fourth year.

That was also why Karkaroff's lessons didn't always work out. He was trying to teach fourth through seventh years the same course material.

"Klasse avvist!" said Karkaroff abruptly, rushing off to his cabin and slamming the doors behind him. **(** _ **Class dismissed**_ **)**

Some of the blokes chuckled as we all moved to find new activities to engage in.

"What's with him, d'you reckon?" Finn nudged my shoulder.

I gave a shrug. "Karkaroff's a nutter."

"Demetria, should ve perhaps practice some more?" said Viktor after joining Finn and I near the ship's railing.

"I dunno, Vik, aren't you blokes tired of being tossed around like a rag doll?" I teased. He, Grigor, and Finn had been the targets for my training.

"I am!" Grigor groaned.

"Well maybe we could make it a bit more interesting," Finn suggested before hoisting himself up on the rail and whistling. All of the other students on deck turned their attention to him. "Which of you strapping young lads has what it takes to beat the Triwizard Champion in a duel?!"

Apparently, they all thought they did...except Sasha. He probably just didn't want to, he seemed far more interested in keeping an eye on Karkaroff, anyway. So that was exactly what he did while I began duelling my first opponent — Aleksander.

Aleksander was a fairly easy victory for me, being that he had not yet been taught the spells which Viktor taught me. He was still rather skilled, though. Next, I took down Oskar with relative ease, as well. He was a seventh year, so he knew a rather wide array of jinxes as well, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Marcus Azarov, a fifth year, followed. He admitted defeat after I'd filled his face with rather nasty boils just as I'd seen Grigor do to Nikolai once. And speaking of Nikolai, that was exactly who stepped up next.

"Ready to —"

 _"It was Demetria Harris, my Lord!" someone hisses, face concealed by a black cloak._

"Harris, did you hear me?"

Nikolai's voice brought me back to reality. I wasn't sure what had just happened... It was like having a thought, or...a vision that I couldn't push aside...

"What? Yeah, fine, let's get on with it," I said.

 _"No, please!" Grandad cries; he's beaten and bloody. "Leave her alone!"_

When I snapped back from that vision, I found myself laying on the deck. Viktor and Grigor rushed to help me up.

"Dem, are you okay?" Viktor asked gravely.

I looked and saw Nikolai standing a ways away, wand extended. He must've Disarmed me or something...

"Yeah, I'm —"

"What is the matter, Harris?" Nikolai mocked. "You cannot beat me without the help of your storebror?" **(** _ **big brother**_ **)**

" _Stupefy!_ " I tossed at him.

 _A flash of green light and then my mother's body is lifeless. Another flash and I see my father drop to the ground. After a third flash, Grandad is gone as well._

I came back just in time to protect myself from Nikolai's Stinging Hex.

"That is the best you have got?!" he scoffed.

 _"The very last Harris," someone whispers. "What shall we do with you?"_

I shook my head.

 _"Death would be too kind, I reckon."_

 _They make a sudden, slashing movement with their wand, a purple flame flying from it. It hits me. I immediately crumple to the floor, screaming in agonizing pain..._

...pain that I could almost really feel... Or was that just another hex from Nikolai? I found myself kneeling on the deck, hunched over, clutching my side.

"Wh-what's happened?" I tried to ask someone.

 _"Bloody fucking traitor," they say._

 _More green. Benjamin drops dead._

"Vi-Viktor!" My head was pounding, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

 _Purple flames hit me and I cry out in pain again. Another flash of green blinds me. When it clears, Viktor, Grigor, and Finn are all lifeless._

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

 _My friends. My family. All bloody. All dead._

I couldn't stop seeing it. My mind wouldn't let me escape it. But suddenly, I was free, I was back in reality.

"Demi, Demi, answer me." Viktor was staring into my eyes, holding me by the shoulders.

I couldn't find words to say. I looked down to where my hand was still clutching my side. The wound from the lake was bleeding through my shirt. Viktor noticed and immediately scooped me up in his arms.

"Is she all right?" someone asked. I was surprised to see it was Nikolai.

"You must haff reopened her wound," Viktor calmly explained. "But I do not know vot vos happening to her."

It was hard for me to keep my eyes open, so after a while, I didn't even bother to try. My head was still throbbing, my pulse racing...it was like waking up from a nightmare... Well, I sort of _was_...

"Vik," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"Do not vorry, Demi," he assured me, voice completely even, no panic whatsoever. "Ve are going to the hospital wing."

I shook my head as much as I could manage. "Snape," I croaked out. "Dungeons."

 _"Use her," hisses Voldemort from his small, fetal body. "Use her to get to the boy."_

I grew foggy, my head feeling heavy as though a great weight was resting inside it.

"After the hospital wing." Viktor was growing worried, then, I could hear it.

"No," I told him. "Now...please...Snape."

 _"There is no where to run, Demetria," Voldemort whispers. I hear his voice, but I only see the bodies of my friends and family. "You belong to me."_

My grip on reality began loosening once again. I had no idea what was really going on anymore.

 _"Do not resist."_

 _A hooded figure casts the Cruciatus Curse on me. I'm screaming. Something is carving itself into my left forearm. A giant snake crawls out of my mother's mouth. It tangles itself throughout the pile of bodies. My arm holds a bloody Dark Mark._

"Harris!"

I was back...and screaming... When I stopped, I picked my head up and looked around. I was seated in a chair with Snape standing in front of me, Viktor no where to be seen. I didn't recognize the room, but I assumed it was Snape's office.

"Wh-where's — ?"

"Guarding the door," Snape answered my unasked question of where Viktor was. He was examining me rather closely.

"It's him," I said. "He's...in my...mind."

"Harris, you must try and focus, do exactly as I say," Snape said urgently. "Clear your mind, let go of all emotion..."

I tried. I tried to calm myself, steady my breathing before I no longer possessed control of my body. I closed my eyes and tried picturing a blank wall in front of myself, tried to imagine I was standing in an empty, white room, not feeling anything at all...but then I started screaming again.

 _The snake slithers its way out of the last of my friends' bodies and, in one swift motion, attacks me._

"Focus!" I heard Snape instructing.

 _It sinks its fangs into my neck. I try and return back to the white room, but I'm still some place dark with the snake hanging on to me...but not for long. I grab the snake and rip it from me, clutching the wound it's left on my neck..._

I stopped screaming. I pictured myself back in the safe, empty, room... I imagined holding the locket around my neck...

" _Legilimens!_ " said Snape.

We were both silent for, what felt like, a while... No one tried to take me from the white room, though.

"Congratulations, Harris," he finally said, and he actually did sound a bit impressed. "You have just learned Occlumency."

I didn't dare open my eyes yet, out of fear that if I did, it might bring back the pain and the visions... Instead, I imagined Snape in the white room with me.

"I...thought...Legilimency..." I was shaking my head. "Hogwarts..."

"It is true that Hogwarts has many charms and magical defenses built around it to ensure Legilimency cannot take place," Snape explained. "However, there appears to be some sort of exception made in your case..."

My breathing was returning to normal, my heart rate finally slowly to an even pace. I took that time to slowly open my eyes. Remembering my reopened wound, my hand instinctively reached for it.

"Taken care of," Snape assured me.

"Thank you," I muttered, steadying myself as I tried to stand up. It caused a bit of a rush at first, but when I regained my balance, I began making my way across the classroom.

"Harris," Snape's voice stopped me for a moment. "why did you request to be brought here?"

Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure... I didn't have much time to consider options, but Snape was just the first person I'd thought of...

I looked over at him and, for once, he wasn't looking back at me with his usual discontent. "I s'pose...I trust you," I told him.

Quick as a flash of lightning, Snape's eyes held surprise. But when the moment was gone, he simply nodded before I made my exit.

If Dumbledore trusted Snape, I decided I would to.


	19. Chapter 18: Checkmate

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

 _Checkmate_

:.:.:

June twenty-fourth. The twenty-fourth of June. The sixth month of the year, the twenty-fourth day of the month. Today was the day. Just one more task and I'd be rid of this Godric-forsaken tournament once and for all. And the best part was that I wasn't even nervous! Probably because I knew I wasn't facing another dragon (or at least I _hoped_ not), or because I knew I wouldn't have to dive into that bloody lake again... And it also helped that none of my best mates were missing on the morning of the task. I sat at the Slytherin table enjoying breakfast with all three of them present and accounted for.

"Hey, Potter! _Potter_!" Draco began shouting at Harry across the Great Hall. "How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?" He was waving a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which I reached across the table and snatched from him. "Er, Demi, you wouldn't be interested in that." He tried to get it back from me.

"Oh no?" I tried him.

 **TRIWIZARD CHAMPIONS**

 **"DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"**

 _The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Lumen who rose from the dead are unstable and possibly dangerous,_ writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. _Alarming evidence has recently come to light about both Harry Potter and Demetria Harris's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon their suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School and Durmstrang Institute, respectively._

 _Potter, the_ Daily Prophet _can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your_ Daily Prophet _reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying._

 _A similar evident transpired with Harris on the very same day, around the same time. Right after witnessing Potter's hysterics, your reporter happened upon Durmstrang's ship where Harris had completely broken down after an innocent duel with one of her schoolmates. Harris was curled up on the ground, crying out in pain, even after the duel had ceased. Numerous other schoolmates tried to speak to her, but she could not hear them, seemingly trapped inside her own mind. She was then carried into Hogwarts to receive medical attention by non-other-than Viktor Krum. (Could there be ANOTHER special lady in the Bulgarian Quidditch star's life? Stay tuned!)_

 _It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion._

 _"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention. And if that's the case, it's likely Miss Harris is acting out similarly for the same reason. It's a constant battle to see who can steal the limelight."_

 _The_ Daily Prophet _, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public._

 _"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though."_

 _Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our time is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation."_

 _There has not been any evidence of Harris speaking Parseltongue, but this reporter agrees with the St. Mungo's specialist, that after hearing this news, it is likely "she will either feel comfortably revealing that she is a Parselmouth, or at least pretend to be one in order to match Harry Potter."_

 _"I wouldn't be surprised if she could speak Parseltongue," says Cho Chang, a fifth year at Hogwarts. "They probably offer it as a class at Durmstrang. That school's known for teaching Dark Arts."_

 _Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether two champions such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter and Harris might resort to the Dark Arts in their desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening._

Draco had been eyeing me carefully, unsure of how I'd react. Although, I'd imagine he was more worried I'd scold him for what he revealed about Harry. And honestly, I would've...but I just couldn't bring myself to take anything in that article seriously. Granted, I did believe Harry was a Parselmouth, but...everything else?

I bursted out into laughter. The blokes around me looked a bit concerned, but after a moment, my mates joined in with me. When I'd connected eyes with Harry from across the Hall, he started laughing with me too. Cho was scowling from over at the Ravenclaw table.

"How pathetic," I said after calming down. "Skeeter's so desperate for a front page story, she'll piece together any load of bullshi — Wait, she said she witnessed what happened on the ship? Did any of you see her around?"

Viktor, Grigor, and Finn all shook their heads.

"You wouldn't've seen her," Draco told me.

"What're you on about?" I asked carefully.

He took a quick glance around before leaning in and telling me, "She's an Animagus — a beetle, unregistered."

I could feel my eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. "Son of a Banshee..." A wicked grin crept upon my face. _That_ was how she was hearing everything that no one else was around for! And _unregistered_? She'd bloody well lose her job if anyone found out! I had to tell — No, I reckon I knew exactly who deserved to tell...

I wasted no time then, getting up from the Slytherin table and marching right over to the Gryffindors. I spotted my bushy-haired friend with ease and leaned in close to tell Hermione the wonderful news. She looked about as gleeful as I did.

"You're certain?" she said.

"Just got word from one of her interviewees," I told her fervently.

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed. "Just give me two seconds in the library — just to make sure!"

With that, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.

"Oi!" Ron called out after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes! Blimey," he said, turning to me. "what'd you tell her?"

"You'll see," I assured him, smirking.

"Must've been really important to risk missing the start of an exam."

 _Oh, it is._ I couldn't wait for everyone to find out, and then I'd never have to worry about another article from that foul woman again.

Ron looked as though he was going to say something else, but just then, Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward us.

"Potter — Ah, Harris, you're here as well, wonderful — the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

She moved away, Harry and I gaping after her.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" she asked blankly.

And though I had no idea who the Dursleys were, I was far too concerned with seeing my grandfather again... I'd been avoiding him for so long, though, surely he wouldn't actually come... Oh, who was I kidding? A chance to see me and speak with me without me being able to run away or hex him? Of course, he'd be there...

"Dunno," said Ron. "Harry, I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later. Bye, Demetria."

I took Ron's seat after he left, and stayed with Harry. We saw Fleur get up from the Ravenclaw table and join Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered, but neither of us moved to do the same.

"You don't want to go in either?" I asked him.

"Not particularly," he admitted. "I have no family — no family who would turn up to see me risk my life, anyway. I've only got an aunt, uncle, and cousin, but they're all Muggles and don't like me very much."

I wondered then if it was better to have no family at all rather than a family that didn't care for you...

"Well, I'm sure my grandad's in there, but I don't really consider him much of family after..." I paused. "...an incident..."

Harry didn't press me for details, which I was thankful for, and we both began considering just leaving the Great Hall instead. But just when we got up to go, the door of the side chamber opened, Cedric sticking his head out.

"Harry, come on, they're waiting for you!" he said. "Demetria, sweetheart, I want you to meet my parents!"

Harry and I looked to one another and sighed. I s'pose I'd have to face dear old Grandad after all... We walked across the Hall and opened the door into the chamber.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. I noticed her wave at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then I saw two red-heads — presumably Mrs. Weasley and one of her sons — standing beside an older man whom I didn't recognize, and he didn't even have the signature, red, Weasley hair.

"Surprise!" said Mrs. Weasley, rushing over to Harry. It made me smile to see that there was someone there for him.

I stepped aside and began making my way toward Cedric because, as far as I could tell, Grandad wasn't there. I s'pose Dumbledore remembered what I'd said about not being on speaking terms with him and hadn't invited him. It did also make me sort of sad, in a way, because although I truly didn't want to see him, it would've been nice to have someone there for me. He could've maybe sent Viktor's parents, like he'd sent Ron's for Harry...

"Demetria, these are my parents," Cedric introduced when I'd made my way over. "Mum, Dad, this is Demetria."

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Demetria," said Mr. Diggory, shaking my head.

"We've heard nothing but wonderful things about you, dear," Mrs. Diggory told me, hugging me and kissing my cheek.

Well, at least I had the Diggorys...

"Demetria!" I turned back around. It was Mrs. Weasley waving me over.

And the Weasleys...?

"Sorry, it was lovely meeting you both —" I said to Cedric's parents.

"Quite alright! I'm sure there'll be plenty of time to speak once this tournament's over," said Mr. Diggory.

I walked back over to where I'd left Harry.

"Hello," I said sort of nervously.

"Demetria Harris, I have not seen you since — Oh, since Lucy was still pregnant with you!" said Mrs. Weasley excitedly. "May I?" She extended her arms.

"Yeah, sure," I said with a laugh; we hugged.

"This is my oldest son —"

"Bill," I said.

"Ah, I see Fred and George have mentioned me," said the tall red-head, shaking my hand. "Nice to meet you, Demetria."

"You too." I mirrored the grin.

"I take it they haven't mentioned me?" said the man. He seemed sort of familiar... But he couldn't've been one of the other Weasley brothers; I'd now met them all. Perhaps he was a different Weasley family member? But he didn't have red hair... It was light brown, flecked with grey. His face was pale and looked sort of exhausted. There were also scars cutting across it, and he had a rough beard.

"I don't think so, sorry," I said sheepishly.

Mrs. Weasley looked as though she was about to explode with happy tears. Harry was looking rather excited as well.

"Oh, don't keep it from her any longer," Bill told his mother, but she couldn't seem to find her voice, then.

"Demetria," Harry spoke for her. "This is Remus Lupin!"

My jaw dropped.

"But — How did he — Dumbledore said he didn't want to contact you and go against Carlisle's wishes..."

"Well then he must've had a change of heart," said Remus, extending his arms. "May _I_?"

I didn't even say anything, simply rushed to embrace him.

"I can't believe it!" I said when I pulled away. "I wanted to find you but I didn't know how and — Godric, I only really just found out about you, but here you are . . . you're really here . . . my godfather's here! I have a godfather!"

I probably sounded silly, but I didn't care. I was just so happy, and so thankful, to have a family member there with me. More than one, really, because I didn't think Mrs. Weasley would let me go another fifteen plus years without seeing her again. And sure enough...

"Demetria, dear, Dumbledore mentioned you and your grandfather weren't on the best of terms," she began. "If you need a place to stay this summer, we would be more than happy to have you!"

A real family . . . not by blood, but still a family . . . Sirius was right: family wasn't always about blood.

"Thank you so much," I said sincerely.

"So, Harry, how about that tour?" said Bill.

"Yeah, okay," said Harry. Remus ushered for me to follow as we all made our way back toward the Great Hall. As we did so, we passed Mr. Diggory, who turned and looked at Harry.

"There you are, are you?" he said, looking Harry up and down. "Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself with Cedric nearly caught up on points, are you?"

"What?" said Harry.

Cedric hadn't been exaggerating about his father...

"Ignore him," said Cedric in a low voice, frowning after his father. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Triwizard Tournament — you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?" said Mr. Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he started to walk out of the door with Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Remus. "Still . . . you'll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven't you?"

"Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. _Not for long._ "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but Mrs. Diggory swooped in to lay a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away.

I had a very enjoyable morning walking over the sunny grounds with Remus, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and Harry. And though I'd already received a tour of Hogwarts, it certainly wasn't boring the second time around. Plus, I'd taken the opportunity to finally get to know my godfather, and he and Mrs. Weasley were certainly eager to get to know me too.

"How's Percy?" Harry asked as we walked around the greenhouses.

"Not good," said Bill.

"He's very upset," said Mrs. Weasley, lowering her voice and glancing around. "The Ministry wants to keep Mr. Crouch's disappearance quiet, but Percy's been hauled in for questioning about the instructions Mr. Crouch has been sending in. They seem to think there's a chance they weren't genuinely written by him. Percy's been under a lot of strain. They're not letting him fill in for Mr. Crouch as the fifth judge tonight. Cornelius Fudge is going to be doing it."

We all returned to the castle for lunch, but when we entered the Great Hall, it didn't really feel right turning toward the Slytherin table. I figured Remus would enjoy it more with the Gryffindors, so I told him I'd meet him there and went to round up Viktor, Finn, and Grigor from the Slytherins.

"Gents, I want you to meet my godfather, Remus Lupin," I introduced upon arriving at the Gryffindor table. "Remus, these are...my brothers: Viktor Krum, Grigor Poliakoff, and Finn Archer."

They all shook Remus's hand and exchanged pleasantries, and when I asked if they'd like to join us at the Gryffindor table, they agreed. Harry, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Ron were already seated, and Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to us too. I was having such a good time, as I always did at the Gryffindor table. There was just something more warm and welcoming about the atmosphere there. And it was especially nice this time because...my family was all together.

Hermione turned up halfway through lunch. I hoped she hadn't missed her exam because of her research in the library...

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley rather stiffly.

"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry spoke to Mrs. Weasley. "You didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in _Witch Weekly_ , did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

I looked to Viktor for some sort of reaction, but he simply smiled at me. "She is not mine either," he said, low enough so only I could hear. I s'pose he'd moved on.

"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley. "No — of course I didn't!" But she became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that.

After lunch, Remus, Viktor, Grigor, Finn, and I whiled away the afternoon on the ship, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, and her eyes looked red. I noticed Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her. Blimey, I wondered what that was all about...

There were more courses than usual, which Grigor really loved, but I didn't want to eat too much before the task. As the enchanted ceiling overheard began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

The Weasleys, Remus, Hermione, and my three brothers all wished Harry and I good luck as we rose from the Gryffindor table and headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric and Fleur. As Bagman immediately began speaking to Harry, I moved closer to Cedric. I'd suddenly felt very guilty for not spending more time with him and his parents that day.

"Sorry I didn't see much of you today," I told him, planting a kiss on his cheek. "I hope your parents don't think I'm incredibly rude."

"Not at all, they understood," he assured me. "I heard that was your godfather who showed up. I guess you found him?"

"Dumbledore did, but yeah, I finally got to meet him." I was still beaming over it.

"That's wonderful, I'm so happy for you, love," Cedric said whole-heartedly. "So how're you feeling about the task?"

"Honestly, I think I'm all right," I told him. "What about you?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said. "Not nearly as nervous as I was before the other two."

"Harris!"

We all turned and saw Mad-Eye Moody making his way toward us from the castle.

"Bagman, mind if I borrow Durmstrang's champion?" he growled. "Madam Pomfrey wants to check up on her injury before the task."

"Very well, but do hurry!" said Bagman. "Demetria and Harry get the headstart!"

Cedric gave me a quick kiss before I rushed to keep up with Moody's long strides; he was clearly on edge about something, and though he had a wooden leg, he was moving rather swiftly. But I'd been so distracted by him that I failed to realize we were no longer headed in the direction of the hospital wing. But before I could say or do anything, Moody had pulled me into a fourth floor classroom.

"What the hell's going on?" I demanded. When I moved for the door, he blocked it and immediately locked it with a nonverbal incantation. " _Alohomora!_ " Nothing happened.

"Gonna take more than the ordinary Unlocking Charm to open this door," he told me, voice still on-edge.

"What're you doing?"

But he didn't answer. He wasn't even looking at me; he stood in front of the window.

"Moody!"

I moved to the window and saw what he was gazing down upon: the Quidditch field. It wasn't a perfect view, but I could see the stands begin to fill with people. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Suddenly, Bagman's magically magnified voice echoed out into the sky.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with ninety points each — Miss Demetria Harris, of Durmstrang Institute and Mr. Harry Potter, of Hogwarts School!" Muffled cheers and applause could be heard even through the glass. "In second place, with seventy-eight points — Mr. Cedric Diggory, also of Hogwarts School!" More applause. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!

"We . . . er . . . seem to still be missing one of our champions . . ."

I glared at Moody.

"You're keeping me locked up in here so that Harry can win the tournament?" I seethed. "It's just a bloody game! Who cares who wins?!" Moody didn't shift his stare from the stadium, not even his magical eye which always seemed to have a mind of its own. "You really don't think your champion can win on his own? You've got to take out the competition? What is wrong with — ?"

"Enough!"

He used another non-verbal spell to send me flying across the room. My back slammed against the wall and I crumpled to the floor. When I lifted my head, Moody was taking a long swig from his hip flask, finally staring back at me.

"This isn't about some game!" he exclaimed.

"So what, then?" I said. "You're going to kill me, is that it? I heard you've been obsessed with hunting Dark wizards."

He laughed darkly, though it sounded more like his usual grumbling. "It's not you I'm planning to kill tonight," he said, turning back to the window. "And they're off..."

"Harry?" I said after a moment. Again, no answer. "What the hell is going on?"

"Impatient little girl, aren't you?" Moody grumbled.

"Oh, you're right!" I said, sarcastically, getting back on my feet. "I'll just sit here quietly and watch as your _brilliant_ master plan unfolds!"

Another sinister laugh. "It's not my plan," he said. "but it _is_ brilliant..."

There was no sodding way someone who'd dedicated their life to locking away Death Eaters would just seemingly turn their back on those morals and try to kill The Boy Who Lived! How was this the famous Auror, Alastor Moody?! How . . . . _Click_ . . . It wasn't the famous Auror, Alastor Moody . . .

My heart free-fell out of my chest. I hadn't been scared before, but I was then...

 _"It's not my plan, but it_ is _brilliant."_

 _"You're not the only one with reliable sources, Harris."_

 _"Reckon I know whose side you're on."_

Whoever this was, they knew I was on the good side... _They_ were the one on the Dark side... And when I'd been Stunned in the forest, they arrived rather quickly on the scene... It had to have been them who attacked me! If they went after Crouch... Bloody hell, did they kill Mr. Crouch...?

While my mind was racing with all these thoughts, I'd been casting different spells on the door in hopes of, perhaps, just blasting it off the hinges. I knew it was pointless, but it was more so to keep 'Moody' from figuring out that _I_ was figuring out his little plan... Because, surely, if I simply stood there with my jaw on the floor, he might alter the plan so it involved killing me too.

"You'll never open it that way," he told me, reaching for his flask again. "And no one'll hear you. All watching the tournament."

And the flask! Of course, the sodding flask! Polyjuice Potion! Polyjuice . . . just like . . . But perhaps it was just a coincidence! Then again . . . he'd been absent from the meetings . . .

"Moody, let me out!" I shouted, keeping my voice as even as I could.

"So you can keep Potter from getting to the Triwizard Cup?" he growled. "I don't think so."

"I thought it wasn't about the game?" I challenged.

"Patience, Harris."

I had two ideas then, and one of them was rather brilliant...but the other was incredibly stupid...

"All right, well at least give me _some_ answers," I said. 'Moody' looked at me. "Why're you trying to kill Harry Potter? Aren't you two on the same side — against Voldemort?"

"Moody" twitched. "Don't say his name," he growled.

You see, I had a fairly good idea of who I was dealing with . . . and I thought maybe if I could unleash some of that wandless magic of mine, it would blast the door open. Only problem was, I could only do it when I was feeling some sort of strong emotion...usually anger. But first, I had to get _him_ angry...

"Sorry, I'm just saying...you really filled up the cells in Azkaban back in the day," I continued. "I mean, you caught the Lestranges — two of the most _pathetic_ excuses for life the world's ever seen!" 'Moody' was biting his tongue then. "And . . . bugger, who was the other one who tortured the Longbottoms?"

"Barty Crouch Jr.," he said.

"Right, right," I said before giving a laugh. "Sentenced to Azkaban by his own father . . . His father, who then broke him out! Talk about a father's love . . ."

"What's your point?" 'Moody' growled.

"My point is, you used to work for people like Mr. Crouch — the good people!" I said. "And Barty Crouch was the best of the be —"

"That's enough out of you!" he said, looking me dead in the eyes. "You're young and ignorant! Don't know what in the hell you're talking about. People like Crouch, the good people?! People like Crouch are the problem! People like _you_ , like your whole family!"

Checkmate.

I actually had to take a quick moment to clear my mind so that I could refrain from smirking that my plan to ignite this tempermental firecracker worked, and also so that I could allow myself to get angry.

"That's why your mummy's not there to kiss you goodnight — she chose the wrong side! That's why your daddy's not there to read you a story — he chose the wrong side! 'Aiden and Lucy Harris died for a noble cause,' my fucking ass! If you want to talk about two of the most pathetic excuses for life —"

I'd felt it begin to flow throughout my body, like boiling blood, and I embraced it. I let myself fill with anger until I couldn't contain it anymore. A ray of white light jetted out from my fingertips, and though I really wanted to use it on 'Moody', I aimed it at the door which _did_ fly off its hinges, and I ran through it.

I was fairly certain I was running the fastest I ever had in my entire life. My legs carried me so quickly down the hallways and staircases that I thought I was going to tip over and stumble. I never even looked back to see if 'Moody' was following; all I focused on was the space in front of me. I didn't stop until I'd reached the entrance hall and nearly knocked right into someone — Snape.

"Harris, where've you been?" he asked urgently.

"Moody's coming, don't let him know that you know," I rushed out. Snape looked as though he was going to ask. "Trust me?" He nodded. "That's not Moody. That's Barty Crouch Jr." And then I took off running again.

Out onto the grounds and right into the stadium, I never even so much as slowed down.

"What's this?" I heard Bagman say with his voice still magically magnified. "Demetria Harris! A bit late to the game, but Durmstrang is back in the running!"

" _Lumos!_ " I said, igniting the dark maze before me.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment I entered the maze. I just wished I knew where I was going . . . I didn't have time to waste.

After about fifty yards, there came a fork, and without giving it too much thought, I went with my gut and turned left. Even though my lungs and legs were begging me to take a break, I didn't, I knew I couldn't. But suddenly, after turning a corner, I saw something — Viktor — and I skidded to a halt. He was lying motionless on the ground . . . and then suddenly, I saw Finn laying next to him . . . and Grigor and . . .

I smirked.

" _Riddikulus!_ "

There came a loud crack, and the boggart exploded in a wisp of smoke. I took off again and then made a left, then another left. Instantly, there came high-pitched cackles from out in front of me and I wasn't sure if these obstacles meant I was going the right way or not, or if fighting whatever they were would be a huge waste of time or not! The cackling drew closer and I could make out three-foot-tall elfish creatures coming toward me. They looked like creepy versions of house-elves... No matter.

" _Impedimenta!_ "

I'd sent them all flying backwards, frozen for only a few seconds. Luckily, it was enough time for me to run by and see there was nothing beyond them but a dead end. I immediately retreated and took the right turn, and then the next right turn after that. That was when I saw an odd golden mist floating toward me but, of course, I didn't have time to stop and think about it. I'd slowed down a little, but I'd been moving so fast that by the time I did so, I was already in the mist...unharmed. It did cause everything to flip upside down, though, but I continued running. I had hoped that the mist would end and the world would right itself again, but that didn't appear to be happening anytime soon. Instead, I looked down at what was really up, pulled my foot from the grassy ceiling, and finally fell. Luckily, I'd landed on solid ground, the world right-side-up again. I got back on my feet and pressed on.

I kept to the left for a while but hit a dead end. After a right, I hit another. I had to backtrack further. Time was running out! What if Harry had already reached the Cup? Although, if he had, they would've stopped the game . . . unless they didn't know something was wrong . . . All I knew was that Crouch Jr. wasn't interested in Harry winning the game, just him getting to the Cup . . . so that was what I had to keep him away from.

Speaking of Harry, where was he? Where was Cedric or Fleur? I was beginning to feel like I was the only bloody person in this maze! And I was growing so frustrated that I decided to do something that might've gotten me disqualified. But at that point, I hardly cared for winning anymore, there was much more than a bloody Cup and some prize money at stake.

I slowed to a stop. " _Point Me_ ," I whispered the Four-Point Spell to my wand, holding it flat in my palm; something Viktor had taught me.

My wand spun around once until it pointed north, which was also pointing right at a hedge. I blasted my way through it. Through that hedge was a long stretch of pathway which I ran down. I caught sight of movement ahead once again, and after shining my wand on it, found it to be a sphinx.

Body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown taft, and head of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon me as I approached, slowly down once again. She was crouched, pacing from side to side of the path, guarding it. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice.

"You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me."

That was it...

"Okay..." I said, urging for her to continue; she didn't. "What's the riddle?"

"Answer on your first guess — I let you pass," she said; I groaned. "Answer wrongly — I attack. Remain silent — I will let you walk away from me unscathed."

"Yes, yes, good, lay it on me," I said. As I'd mentioned before, I enjoyed puzzles.

The sphinx took her sweet time sitting down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, before finally reciting:

 _"First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

 _Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

 _Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,_

 _The middle of middle and end of the end?_

 _And finally give me the sound often heard_

 _During the search for a hard-to-find word._

 _Now string them together, and answer me this,_

 _Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?"_

 _A person who lives in disguise . . . deals in secrets, tells lies . . ._ I mused. _Demetria Harris? Right, not the time for jokes . . . a spy!_

 _Always the last thing to mend . . . middle of middle, end of end . . . D!_

I didn't even try to decode the rest, although after I said the answer, it became clear that 'er' was the answer to the last clue.

"Spider!"

The sphinx smiled broadly, looking rather impressed. She then got up, took her time, yet again, in stretching her front legs, and then moved aside for me to pass. I broke back into a mad dash.

" _Point Me_ ," I whispered again to my wand when the path up ahead split; I followed my wand.

I'd done it! I'd made it! Up ahead, about a hundred yards, gleamed the Triwizard Cup on a plinth! And there was Harry! And Cedric! They were standing in front of it, discussing something...

"Harry! Don't! Harry! Cedric!" I cried like a madwoman, moving as quickly as my legs could carry me.

But something was wrong . . . they didn't seem to hear me at all . . . Was it another obstacle? Was there some sort of invisible shield surrounding them? Whatever it was, it had to be Crouch Jr.'s doing. I wouldn't've been the least bit surprised to find out that he'd been manipulating this bloody maze the entire time.

I was so close, nearly there! Right when I could've reached out and touched either of them, something stopped me. It was exactly what I thought it'd been — an invisible wall blocking me from the Cup. I moved from edge to edge, feeling out in front of me, but the wall extended from hedge to hedge. I banged on the wall, I screamed and cried out. I cast all sorts of jinxes and hexes...nothing worked!

Cedric was helping an injured Harry walk right up to the Cup now. They were about to grab it, seemingly at the same time. There wasn't enough time to make myself angry enough to blast the wall down as I'd done with Crouch Jr.'s door. I was all out of moves . . . Then again, I always had been one for brains over brawn . . . So I didn't get mad, I got smart.

I moved to the very edge, right where the wall met the hedge and blasted a hole into the hedge just as I'd done earlier. I ran through it, made a half-circle, and blasted another hole in the same hedge, nearly next to the first hole.

"One — two — three —"

I practically lunged forward, grabbing on to Harry just as he and Cedric had grasped the Cup's handle.

Instantly, I felt a jerk somewhere behind my navel. My feet had left the ground. The Triwizard Cup was a Portkey, and I had the sinking feeling I wouldn't like where it was taking us.


	20. Chapter 19: The Coward's Way Out

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

 _The Coward's Way Out_

:.:.:

I felt my feet slam into the ground; Harry had fallen down beside me.

"Demetria?" he said. "What — How did you —"

But I wasn't paying much attention to Harry. Cedric had helped him up but I was more focused on where we were.

We'd left the Hogwarts grounds completely; we'd obviously traveled miles — perhaps hundreds of miles — for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. We were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to our right. A hill rose above us to our left. And yet, somehow, there was something eerily familiar about it all...

"Did anyone tell _you_ the cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked Harry.

"Nope," said Harry, looking around the silent graveyard. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"No," I answered shortly, realizing where we were. "It's a trap."

"How d'you know?" Harry asked, urgently.

"Where did you even come from?" inquired Cedric.

"I can answer all of your questions later," I assured them. "Right now —"

Harry suddenly dropped to his knees, hands on his face. His scar. I whipped around and saw a shadowy figure carrying something . . . No, _someone_ . . . in their arms. Then a high, cold voice said, " _Kill the spare._ "

I pulled out my wand, but by the time I'd remembered the Killing Curse was unblockable, it was too late...

"Cedric!"

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

I'd moved to push him out of the way, but to no avail. A blast of green light had been cast before me, and the body I tackled to the ground was lifeless. Cedric Diggory was dead.

"WORMTAIL!" I cried out in both anger and sadness. I turned back to face him, because I knew the cloaked figure was him and the bundle he held was Lord Voldemort himself. This was the graveyard I'd seen in my dream about my mother when she first gave me the locket.

" _Restrain her_ ," came Voldemort again.

I screamed, the same familiar flash of white light jetting out from, not only my fingertips, but my palms. My entire hand was sending out a wave of magic; it sent both Voldemort's fetal body and Wormtail flying backwards. But when I'd rushed back to grab Harry and the Triwizard Cup, another hooded figure appeared and placed me in the Full Body-Bind Curse. I dropped to the ground, unable to move — a feeling that was quickly becoming far too familiar for my liking.

"Told you I'd see you soon, didn't I?"

Dolohov. If I'd been able to, I would've spat on him.

He rushed off to do Godric-knows-what; the sounds I was hearing didn't give me much of a clue, and all I could see was the blanket of stars I was laying under . . . just as I had been not long ago with Cedric . . . I could feel tears begin to trickle down my face.

It didn't seem real. I was certain it couldn't be. Cedric would wake up . . . he had to . . .

When Dolohov made his way back over to me, he dragged me over to the yew tree, propped me up against it, and began conjuring tight cords around both myself and the tree. I saw Wormtail was doing the same to Harry, except he was being tied to a marble headstone, the name upon it reading: **TOM RIDDLE**

"I'll have to thank Barty for warning me about you," said Dolohov, smirking. "If not for him, you might've actually saved someone's life today," he laughed cynically, catching a tear that had just fallen from my eye. He then drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into my mouth.

"All right over there, Wormtail?" he called across the ground. "What would he do without me?" But before he'd gone off to help, he took the curse off of me, not that it made much of a difference.

I instantly began wriggling, trying to perhaps loosen the ropes or free a hand or something, but nothing worked. I even tried leaning forward in an attempt to bite it, but I couldn't reach. It was impossible to move an inch; all I could do was watch what they were doing to Harry.

Wormtail began fumbling over the knots, so Dolohov took over. Wormtail instead shoved what appeared to be a similar piece of material into Harry's mouth. Once they were both done with their tasks, they hurried off. I didn't see where they'd gone, but I did see a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where Harry was tied. Nagini.

When Wormtail and Dolohov returned, they were pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. I couldn't see what was inside, but I assumed by the sloshing sound that it was water...or at least, liquid of some kind. Wormtail set a crackling fire beneath it.

Fiery sparks began shooting out of it, steam thickening, blurring my vision of Harry. Voldemort's high, cold voice came again.

" _Hurry!_ "

He was stirring restlessly on the ground inside the bundle of robes. He was so small, so feeble . . . I could've so easily just rid the world of him right then and there. The desire to do so was enough to start wriggling again. I knew it was probably hopeless, but no one was paying attention to me, and something was bound to give eventually if I kept trying. It took a lot of energy to move at all, though, being that it was so difficult to do so. After very few attempts, I was already feeling tired and sore, the cords practically cutting into me.

"It is ready, Master," said Wormtail.

" _Now_..."

Wormtail pulled open the robes on the ground, Harry letting out a strangled yell as the creature inside was revealed. I had to admit, even though I knew Voldemort wasn't looking his best these days, I was shocked and disgusted to actually see it for myself.

It looked as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind — but worse, a hundred times worse. The _almighty Dark Lord_ may have been the shape of a crouched human child, but it couldn't've looked like anything less. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face was flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes. It put its thin arms up, around Wormtail's neck, and he lifted it, carrying it to the cauldron. He lowered Voldemort into it, and all was so quiet, I could actually hear his frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud, even from the distance at which I stood.

"Don't fuck this up," I heard Dolohov tell Wormtail who began speaking, voice shaking.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ "

I wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but it looked as though a fine trickle of dust had risen into the air from the surface of the grave, and fell softly into the cauldron; it sent sparks in all different directions.

Wormtail began whimpering now, pulling a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

" _Flesh_ — _of the servant_ — _w-willingly given_ — _you will_ — _revive_ — _your master_."

He stretched his right hand out in front of him — the hand which had a missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand, swung it upward, and then brought it back down. Wormtail had chopped off his own hand; he deserved worse.

The cauldron began to shine burning red as he dropped it in. Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. I watched that slimy bastard suffer. Then he placed himself right in front of Harry.

" _B-blood of the enemy . . . forcibly taken . . . you will . . . resurrect your foe._ "

Wormtail dug the dagger into the crook of Harry's right arm, blood now seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, fumbled in his pocket for something I couldn't see at first . . . something to catch Harry's blood . . . it was a glass vial. He staggered back to the cauldron and poured it inside.

The liquid turned a blinding white, shining out onto Harry, almost like my own . . . Bloody hell, why didn't I think of that sooner?!

I was no longer watching whatever Wormtail was doing, instead I looked over at Cedric, sprawled on the ground some twenty feet away. I could see his grey eyes were still open, wide and staring up at the sky. I thought of how I would never again be able to stare into those eyes and see them glitter with warmth and love as they often did when he looked at me. I thought of how I would never again be wrapped in his arms or feel his lips on mine . . . I thought of how Wormtail took all of that away from me, took away my love. I thought of how someone else — and I wish to Salazar I knew who — took away my parents. I thought of how Voldemort stole my family from me and tortured my grandfather into feeling as though he had to keep the truth about my life from me.

But no matter how hard I tried to fill myself with boiling blood and anger, I couldn't. All I produced were more tears.

Suddenly, I turned my attention back to the cauldron, the sparks emanating from it extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of me, so that I couldn't see Wormtail, Cedric, Harry, or Dolohov; nothing but the vapor hanging in the air.

But then, through the mist in front of me, I saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry, his back to me. But I didn't need to see the undoubtedly pale, scarlet-eyed, snake-like face of this man to know who it was — Lord Voldemort.

He paid me absolutely no mind, not even Wormtail or Dolohov. He admired his new body while Wormtail lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, and Nagini returned, circling Harry and hissing.

Voldemort retrieved his wand and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. He then turned his focus to Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

"My Lord . . ." choked Wormtail, wrapping the stump of his arm in his bloody robes. "My Lord . . . you promised . . . you did promise . . ."

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh Master . . . thank you, Master . . ."

He extended his bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please . . . _please_ . . ."

I could practically feel bile rising in my throat. Wormtail . . . Dolohov . . . Death Eaters . . . they were such pathetic cowards, it made me sick . . . And yet, I was to become one. I was staring at my future...

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, and began examining his Dark Mark.

"It is back," he said softly. "they will all have noticed it . . . and now, we shall see . . . now we shall know . . ."

Voldemort pressed a finger to Wormtail's Mark, causing him to let out a howl of pain. Dolohov also cried out, his own sleeve rolled up. Both Marks turned from vivid red to jet black.

A look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and looked to Dolohov now.

"You have proven most useful and loyal, Antonin," Voldemort told him; Dolohov bowed. "Now, how many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

It seemed as though I would be reuniting with Grandad after all...

My insides went cold as Voldemort's gaze fell upon me, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face. He walked toward me.

"Ah, and here is our little heroine," he said darkly. "I certainly hope you know where your loyalties lie, Demetria Harris."

I only stared back at him, eyes and expression void of any emotion.

That was all he said to me before turning back to Harry. I actually wished he would've said a bit more, like maybe what he planned to do with me... After all, if Barty Crouch Jr. really had been posing as Moody, Voldemort undoubtedly knew that I was the one who let it slip that Crouch's son was alive...

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," Voldemort hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death . . ."

Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, Nagini continuing to circle in the grass.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was . . . He didn't like magic, my father . . ."

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool, who gave me his name . . . _Tom Riddle_ . . ."

Still he paced.

"Listen to me, reliving family history . . ." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental . . . But look, Harry! My _true_ family returns . . ."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree to which I was tied, in every shadowy space, Death Eaters were Apparating, all hooded and masked. One by one, they moved forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Voldemort stood in silence, waiting for them. One of them fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master . . . Master . . ."

Like I said: pathetic...

Each Death Eater moved forward to do the same before standing up and backing away, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Harry, Voldemort, Dolohov, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, and one was directly in front of me.

"Dolohov, see if young Harris would care to join," hissed Voldemort, eyes piercing through me even from across the way.

Dolohov moved rather quickly over to me, grinning wickedly, as he often did.

"Well, what say you, Switzerland?" he asked. "Friend . . . or foe?"

He removed the gag from my mouth; it took me a moment of coughing to find my voice. I looked to Harry...

 _I'm sorry._

"Friend," I said.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" he said, now freeing me from the ropes.

Voldemort waited for Dolohov and I to join the circle before speaking again. I didn't dare look at Harry.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years . . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were only yesterday . . . We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we?_ "

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said; I hoped it wasn't me. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air."

I would've been worried, if one _could_ actually smell guilt... Although, I didn't feel guilty about what I'd done, telling Dumbledore about Crouch Jr. The only thing I felt guilty for was what I'd just said to Dolohov . . . that I'd taken the coward's way out.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask myself . . . why did that band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke. No one even moved except Wormtail, who was still upon the ground, sobbing over his bleeding arm.

"And I answer myself," whispered Voldemort. "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment . . .

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them, as did I.

"It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed . . ."

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort's feet, and I couldn't tell who it was until he spoke.

"Master!" he shrieked; it sounded like Lucas Avery. "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!"

Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand.

" _Crucio!_ "

Avery writhed and shrieked until Voldemort raised his wand again, Avery laying flat upon the ground, gasping.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive, I do not forget. Thirteen long years . . . I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail. "please, Master . . . please . . ."

I had to be careful now, because I was no longer gagged, and people would be able to hear me if I scoffed or made some other disgusted noise.

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me . . . and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers . . ."

Worthless and traitorous . . . I was no better than Wormtail. I switched sides to save myself and the people I cared for . . . did that make it a noble act, or simply a cowardly one? Was I no better than the Death Eaters currently rotting away in Azkaban? They did not betray their master, turn their back on their loyalties . . . they stood by their beliefs . . . and they may've been the wrong beliefs to have, but at least they had some. I was beginning to feel I had none . . . that I'd simply do whatever it took to survive . . . like Wormtail . . .

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.

"My Lord," he whispered. "Master . . . it is beautiful . . . thank you . . . _thank you_. . ."

He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," said Voldemort.

"No, My Lord . . . never, My Lord . . ."

 _Bullshite._

Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Voldemort now approached the man on Wormtail's right.

"Lucius," he whispered, halting before him.

Though it was a rather unimportant and silly thing to be thinking, I couldn't help wondering how the sodding hell Voldemort knew who was who. I'd seen these people almost every day for nearly eight years and I could barely tell, what with the hoods and masks. There was one Death Eater I _was_ able to point out without first having to hear their voice, though, and he was standing right next to Lucius Malfoy.

"Carlisle," Voldemort addressed him as well. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you both present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you neer tried to find me . . . Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay . . . but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

"My Lord, we were constantly on the alert," came Lucius's voice swiftly from beneath the hood, behind the mask. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, we would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented us —"

"Oh, I believe Carlisle would have . . . But you, Lucius? You ran from my Mark when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer..." Voldemort said lazily. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius . . . You have disappointed me . . . I expect more faithful service in the future.

"Of course, My Lord, of course . . . You are merciful, thank you . . ."

"Carlisle, do keep a closer eye on our slippery friend."

"Yes, My Lord, as you wish," said Grandad calmly. It wasn't something one should be particularly proud of, but Grandad had become a pro at shite like this.

Voldemort moved on, and stopped, staring at the space — large enough for two people — that separated Grandad and the next man.

"The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort quietly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than denounce me . . . When Azkaban is broken open, the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams. The dementors will join us . . . they are our natural allies . . . we will recall the banished giants . . . I shall have all my devoted servants returned to me, and an army of creatures whom all will fear. . ."

He walked on. Some of the Death Eaters he passed in silence, but he paused before others and spoke to them.

"Macnair . . . destroying dangerous beasts for the Ministry of Magic now, Wormtail tells me? You shall have better victims than that soon, Macnair. Lord Voldemort will provide. . ."

"Thank you, Master . . . thank you," Macnair murmured.

"And here" Voldemort had moved on to the two largest hooded figures. "we have Crabbe . . . you will do better this time, will you not, Crabbe? And you, Goyle?"

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"Yes, Master . . ."

"We will, Master . . ."

"The same goes for you, Nott," said Voldemort quietly as he walked past a stooped figure in Goyle's shadow.

"My Lord, I prostrate myself before you, I am your most faithful —"

"That will do," said Voldemort before reaching another hooded figure that I recognized. "Turner . . . take young Harris under your wing . . . and I'm sure I can expect nothing but your most unquestionable loyalty from here on out?"

"Yes, of course, My Lord," Benjamin said quietly.

Voldemort then reached the largest gap of all, and he stood surveying it with his blank, red eyes, as though he could see people standing there.

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters . . . three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return . . . he will pay. One, who I believe has left me forever . . . he will be killed, of course . . . and one, who remains my most faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service."

Everyone in the circle stirred.

"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our guest of honor arrived here tonight. . ."

 _Barty Crouch Jr._ ...

"Yes," said Voldemort, a grin curling his lipless mouth as the eyes of the circle flashed in Harry's direction, mine included. "Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party."

There was a silence, then Lucius stepped forward.

"Master, we crave to know . . . we beg you to tell us . . . how you have achieved this . . . this miracle . . . how you managed to return to us . . ."

"Ah, what a story that is, Lucius," said Voldemort. "And it begins — and ends — with my young friend here."

He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. Nagini continued to circle.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Voldemort said softly, red eyes upon Harry. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him — and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen . . . I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice . . . This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it . . . but no matter. I can touch him now."

And so he did. Harry looked as though he was about to burst from the pain, I only could've imagined how badly his scar must've been hurting... Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters, er, well...us...

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know . . . I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal — to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself . . . for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand . . .

"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist . . . I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited . . . Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me . . . one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body . . . but I waited in vain . . ."

The shiver ran once more around the circle. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where the other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals — snakes, of course, being my preference — but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic . . . and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long . . .

"Then . . . four years ago . . . the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard — young, foolish, and gullible — wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of . . . for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school . . . he was easy to bend to my will . . . he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted . . . thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter..."

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, not even the leaves on the yew tree. I wondered if anyone was simply just pretending to be as interested as they all looked.

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as I had ever been," Voldemort continued. "I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn't then fear that I might never regain my powers . . . Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour . . . I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess . . . and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me..."

One or two of the masked wizards shifted uncomfortably, but Voldemort didn't notice.

"And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last . . . a servant returned to me. Wormtail here, who had faked his own death to escape justice, was driven out of hiding by those he had once counted friends, and decided to return to his master. He sought me in the country where it had long been rumored I was hiding . . . helped, of course, by the rats he met along the way. Wormtail has a curious affinity with rats, do you not, Wormtail? His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them...

"But his journey back to me was not smooth, was it, Wormtail? For, hungry one night, on the edge of the very forest where he had hoped to find me, he foolishly stopped at an inn for some food . . . and who should he meet there, but one Bertha Jorkins, a witch from the Ministry of Magic.

"Now see the way that fate favors Lord Voldemort. This might have been the end of Wormtail, and of my last hope for regeneration. But Wormtail — displaying a presence of mind I would never have expected from him — convinced Bertha Jorkins to accompany him on a nighttime stroll. He overpowered her . . . he brought her to me. And Bertha Jorkins, who might have ruined it all, proved instead to be a gift beyond my wildest dreams . . . for — with a little persuasion — she became a veritable mine of information.

"She told me that the Triwizard Tournament would be played at Hogwarts this year. She told me that she knew of a faithful Death Eater who would be only too willing to help me, if I could only contact him. She told me many things . . . but the means I used to break the Memory Charm upon her were powerful, and when I had extracted all useful information from her, her mind and body were both damaged beyond repair. She had now served her purpose. I could not possess her. I disposed of her."

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, red eyes blank and pitiless.

"Wormtail's body, of course, was ill adapted for possession, as all assumed him dead, and would attract far too much attention if noticed. However, he was the able-bodied servant I needed, and, poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients of true rebirth . . . a spell or two of my own invention . . . a little help from my dear Nagini, a potion concocted from unicorn blood, and the snake venom Nagini provided . . . I was soon returned to an almost human form, and strong enough to travel.

"There was no hope of stealing the Sorcerer's Stone anymore, for I knew that Dumbledore would have seen to it that it was destroyed. But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality. I set my sights lower . . . I would settle for my old body back again, and my old strength.

"I knew that to achieve this — it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight — I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant...

"My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But the blood of a foe . . . Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me . . . as so many of them still do. But I knew the one I must use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter's blood. I wanted the blood of the one who had stripped me of power thirteen years ago . . . for the lingering protection his mother once gave him would then reside in my veins too...

"But how to get at Harry Potter? For he has been better protected than I think even he knows, protected in ways devised by Dumbledore long ago, when it fell to him to arrange the boy's future. Dumbledore invoked an ancient magic, to ensure the boy's protection as long as he is in his relations' care. Not even I can touch him there . . . Then, of course, there was the Quidditch World Cup . . . I thought his protection might be weaker there, away from his relations and Dumbledore, but I was not yet strong enough to attempt to kidnap in the midst of a horde of Ministry wizards. And then, the boy would return to Hogwarts, where he is under the crooked nose of that Muggle-loving fool from morning until night. So how could I take him?

"Why . . . by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use my one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure that the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament — that he touched the Triwizard Cup first — the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which would bring him here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting arms. And here he is . . . the boy you all believed had been my downfall..."

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand.

" _Crucio!_ "

I watched Harry suffer, his eyes rolling madly in his head, and knew there wasn't a thing I could do about it.

" _I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…trained to function without one._ "

Voldemort ceased and left Harry hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," said Voldemort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered to his snake, who then glided away through the grass to where we all stood watching.

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."


	21. Chapter 20: Obicham Te

_**Chapter Twenty**_

 _Obicham Te_

:.:.:

Wormtail approached Harry, raising his new silver hand, and pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry. He then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone. I wondered why, when Harry dropped to the ground, he didn't attempt to run, but I could see from the blood on his pants that he'd injured his leg.

Wormtail had left the circle to retrieve Harry's wand, and the rest of us had closed it, filling in the gaps. Wormtail returned to the circle after thrusting Harry's wand into his hand.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" said Voldemort softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

I saw the panic rise in Harry's green eyes. He either hadn't been taught or hadn't been taught enough.

"We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners . . . Bow to death, Harry..."

The Death Eaters were laughing again. Voldemort's lipless mouth was smiling. Harry didn't bow.

"I said, _bow_ ," Voldemort said, raising his wand. Harry did bow then, but it clearly hadn't been his choice. The Death Eaters laughed harder than ever; I detected Grandad's laugh among them and it made my heart sink.

"Very good," said Voldemort softly, and as he raised his wand, Harry straightened back up. "And now you face me, like a man . . . straight-backed and proud, the way your father died...

"And now — we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand again, and before Harry could even move, let alone defend himself, he had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. I watched Harry, practically able to feel the pain myself, but knew I could do nothing to help him.

When it was over, Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking as uncontrollably as Wormtail had done just moments ago; he staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

I wished, at that moment, that I was still tied up to that yew tree. I wished I was actually as weak and powerless as I felt in that moment. I was just as pathetic as the rest of them, except perhaps worse, because I did not stand in the circle for the same reasons they did — except Carlisle, Benjamin, and perhaps one or two more.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause . . . That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

I certainly didn't, but Harry didn't answer. I considered stepping forward and asking to receive the Curse instead, a way to prove my loyalty to becoming a Death Eater and also spare Harry the pain, but I realized it would be pointless. He wanted Harry to be the one to feel the curse; he wanted Harry to be the one to die.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! _Imperio!_ "

"I WON'T!"

The words burst from Harry's mouth after a moment of him clearly struggling to break free of the Imperius Curse; his words echoed through the graveyard.

Harry was strong...or perhaps just lucky, because he had no one to . . . No . . . he _did_ have people to lose. He had a family, friends, people who cared for him, he had people who would surely be harmed if he did not give into Voldemort . . . and if he died, the Potter name would die with him, much like the Harris name would die with Grandad and I, unless they decided not to kill him . . . but the Harris name had been tainted. It was no longer about names . . . it was about the people, themselves, and there were still plenty of good people who would stand by their beliefs and be strong . . . like Harry. He was choosing to die rather than beg for his life as Voldemort wanted.

But who, if he died, would stop Voldemort? Was anyone else capable? Was _I_? Was it noble of Harry to die for what he believed in, or stupid? Would it be a sacrifice or an end to humanity's hope?

The roles should have been reversed. Harry should have been doing whatever it meant to survive and I should've been the martyr. We needed Harry Potter alive, all of us, everyone in Great Britain, everyone in Europe, everyone in the whole bloody world. Harry Potter was the king, I was just another pawn. There were plenty of Demetria Harrises who would fight, the world didn't need this one in particular.

Voldemort had raised his wand to hit Harry with the Cruciatus Curse again, but he'd been ready; he flung himself sideways onto the ground; he rolled behind the marble headstone.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft, cold voice, the Death Eaters laughing. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died . . ."

 _I have_.

As soon as I stepped out of the circle, everyone shifted their eyes to me, some of them gasping. I walked right up to the headstone which Harry was crouching behind.

"What is this?" hissed Voldemort. "A change in allegiance? Are you sure this is wise, Demetria?"

"Obicham te," I said to the ground, hoping Grandad heard, before picking my head up and looking Voldemort in his red eyes. "I'm afraid I'm not very much like my father . . . or my grandfather," I glanced over to him through angry, slit eyes.

In truth, I was like all of them, but I didn't dare expose Grandad, or even my deceased father...

"I haven't considered Carlisle to be my family for a long time," I continued; the words hurt to say, mostly because for brief moments at some points, I'd believed them to be true. "You can keep him . . . I am my mother's daughter."

"Very well," said Voldemort airily, lipless mouth twisting up into a sinister grin. "Then you will die as your mother did..."

But in that moment, Harry had thrown himself around the headstone, shouting, " _Expelliarmus!_ " Voldemort cried, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's — they met in midair — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry and Voldemort were both fiercely gripping their wands which appeared to be shaking and vibrating.

And then, both Harry and Voldemort began to lift off the ground, being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone and came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves. The Death Eaters were shouting, asking Voldemort for instructions. They seemed to have forgotten I'd just went up against their master, and as they reformed the circle around Harry and Voldemort, I kept myself just outside of it so as not to remind them.

When one of the Death Eaters in front of me turned his head to the side, I thought it was Dolohov about to punish me for choosing the "wrong side." I held my wand out in front of me, but realized instantly, I did not need it. I realized that Death Eater was Grandad, and he whispered back to me the Bulgarian message I'd given him.

"Obicham te."

Translated: I love you.

"Nadyavam se da se sreshtnem otnovo," I said quickly. **(** _ **I hope to meet again**_ **)**

Because I knew what it also meant.

Translated: Goodbye.

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, a crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, though his cry was strangely muffled now. "Do nothing unless I command you!"

The beam between Voldemort and Harry changed again. It was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting their wands. They began to slide slowly and steadily Harry's way. As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, I could see his wand vibrate harder, the closer the bead got to him. But then slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now . . . Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful...

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the top of Voldemort's wand. It moved very slowly along the golden thread . . . it trembled for a moment . . . and then it connected . . .

At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain . . . then — his red eyes widened with shock — a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished . . . the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail . . . more shouts of pain . . . and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the most solid and dense smoke. It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory.

As badly as I would've loved to believe that Cedric had somehow been brought back to life, I knew it couldn't have been the case... The thick gray ghost of him emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were sqeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

"Hold on, Harry," it said.

I wanted it to turn and speak to me . . . I hoped it might . . . but this was not about me . . .

More screams of pain from the wand . . . and then something else emerged from its tip . . . the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso . . . an old man I did not recognize was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done . . . and his ghost fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick...

"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did . . . You fight him, boy . . ."

But already, yet another head was emerging . . . and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's . . . she dropped to the ground and straightened up like the others, staring . . .

"Don't let go, now!" cried Bertha Jorkins. "Don't let him get you, Harry — don't let go!"

And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand. The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at Harry...

"Your father's coming..." she said quietly. This was Harry's mother, Lily. "Hold on for your father . . . it will be all right . . . hold on . . ."

And he came . . . first his head, then his body . . . tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke . . . though I did not hear what he said, he was keeping his voice quiet so Voldemort could not hear him.

"Yes," I heard Harry gasp when James was finished.

"Harry . . ." said the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents . . ."

"I will," said Harry, face screwed up with the effort of holding his wand.

"And tell Demetria . . ." My heart fluttered upon him hearing my name . . . for what would be the last time . . . I didn't hear what he said, though; he spoke to Harry as quietly as James had, but Harry promised Cedric he would tell me.

After another moment, Harry yelled, "NOW!" He pulled his wand upward and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear — they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze.

"Demetria!" he shouted, running toward me. I joined him immediately.

We zigzagged behind headstones, feeling the Death Eaters' curses following us, hearing them hit the headstones — we were dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body.

" _Stun them!_ " I heard Voldemort scream.

" _Impedimenta!_ " I immediately whipped around and shouted. It hit nearly all of them.

I heard more wand blasts behind us as Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me to the ground with him; more jets of light flew over our heads as we fell, Harry stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm.

"Stand aside! I will kill them! They are mine!" shrieked Voldemort.

I waited for Harry's other hand to close on Cedric's wrist before I reached out for the Triwizard Cup, which was just in my reach. I grabbed it by the handle with my free hand and heard Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that I felt the jerk behind my navel that meant the Portkey had worked — it was speeding us away in a whirl of wind and color . . . We were going back.


	22. Chapter 21: Brave

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

 _Brave_

:.:.:

I felt myself slam flat into the ground, my face pressed into the grass. Harry tightened his grip on my right hand, and in my left, I still felt the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup. And in a way, I sort of wished I could stay there, that I could keep my eyes shut and just pretend everything that happened was nothing more than a dream, and it seemed Harry felt the same way. Neither of us made any moves to get up, because as long as we stayed there in the grass, eyes shut tight, we didn't have to face reality . . . but the peace didn't last.

There were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams . . . and then Harry's hand left mine, someone turning me over.

"Demetria! Harry!"

I finally opened my eyes and saw the starry sky, Albus Dumbledore crouched over both Harry and I. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around us, pushing nearer; I felt the ground beneath my head reverberating with their footsteps.

We had come back to the edge of the maze. I could see the stands rising above us, the shapes of people moving in them, the stars above.

I let go of the cup, but I reached beside me to clutch Harry's hand again; he held mine just as tightly.

"He's back," Harry whispered to Dumbledore. "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?"

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry and I; it looked white, appalled.

"My God — Diggory!" it whispered. "Dumbledore — he's dead!"

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on us gasped it to those around them . . . and then others shouted it — screeched it — into the night — "He's dead!" "He's _dead_!" "Cedric Diggory! _Dead_!"

I remained frozen; each time I heard the words, it was another dagger in me, another tear brimming at my eyes. This was the reality I'd wanted so badly to avoid.

"Harry, let go of him," I heard Fudge say.

I knew if it had been me holding Cedric's body, I wouldn't have been able to let go. I knew that if I looked at him again, his grey eyes blank and still, it would destroy me.

"Harry, you can't help him now. It's over. Let go," said Dumbledore softly.

 _I_ could've helped him. _I_ knew the cup was a trap. _I_ knew something was wrong the moment it brought us to that graveyard. But I wasn't quick enough . . . I wasn't quick enough to escape the classroom, I wasn't quick enough to reach the cup, and I wasn't quick enough to save Cedric from the Killing Curse . . . I wasn't fucking quick enough . . .

The tears fell, once again, and I did nothing to stop them.

"He wanted me to bring him back," Harry muttered beside me to Dumbledore. "He wanted me to bring him back to his parents..."

"That's right, Harry...just let go now..."

Dumbledore raised Harry from the ground. There was nothing between Cedric and I now.

 _Don't do it, don't do it,_ I told myself. _You don't need to see him like this . . . don't look . . . don't look . . ._

But I did look . . . and I cried out, practically flinging myself onto his body. I rested my head on his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Demetria," said Dumbledore after a moment; I felt his hand on my back. "Demetria, I'm sorry. There's nothing you can do for him now."

I pulled my head up and placed my hand gently over his eyelids to shut them. I let Dumbledore help me to my feet. I saw Mr. Diggory running over now, but I couldn't find Harry. Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically . . . I didn't know where to go or what to do . . . but suddenly, I remembered something. I thought back to the classroom . . .

"Harry!" I called out into the air. "Harry! Where's Harry?!"

"He's ill and injured," Dumbledore calmly explained to me. "Moody is taking him to the hospital wing."

"No, no, no, sir, no," I muttered. So much was happening . . . there was so much commotion and screaming, my mind was going a mile a minute. "I told Snape! Sir, that's not Moody!"

"Severus did tell me," Dumbledore assured me. "I will follow them."

"I'm coming with you," I said, voice still shaken from crying.

Dumbledore looked, for a moment, as though he might protest, but he nodded and said, "Very well. Come on."

We moved rather slowly to ensure there was a decent amount of distance between us and them, although they were no where in sight. I didn't necessarily mind the pace, though, being that my mind was still reeling and I trusted Dumbledore would not let anything happen to Harry. Snape and McGonagall came with us.

"Mad, am I?" I heard Moody's voice cry out as we neared his office; we moved quicker. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him — and now — I conquer you!"

" _Stupefy!_ " Dumbledore blasted the door apart, Barty Crouch Jr., still disguised as Moody, thrown backward onto the office floor.

Dumbledore stepped into the office first, placed a foot underneath 'Moody''s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape and I entered next, followed by McGonagall, who went straight to Harry.

"Come along, Potter," she whispered. "Come along . . . hospital wing . . ."

"No," said Dumbledore sharply. I'd never seen him look so intimidating. There wasn't a trace of the usual twinkle in his eyes.

"Dumbledore, he ought to — look at him — he's been through enough tonight —"

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," said Dumbledore curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."

"Moody," Harry said, in a state of complete disbelief. "How can it have been Moody?"

"This is not Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore quietly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight, nor would he have locked Demetria in a classroom to keep her from the cup. However, that was when Demetria was able to discover who this man truly is. She informed Severus of this, who then relayed the message to me — and we followed you."

Dumbledore bent down over 'Moody''s limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to McGonagall and Snape.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog with you back to the Quidditch field, and then bring both the dog and Remus Lupin up to my office. Tell them I will be with them shortly, then come back here."

If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spellbooks had vanished and this time it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry and I watched Dumbledore place the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys into their respective locks, reopening the trunk each time, and revealing different contents each time. Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw open the lid, and I heard Harry let out a cry of amazement.

The three of us were looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should've held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing.

Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowering himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.

"Stunned — controlled by the Imperius Curse — very weak," he said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak — he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."

Harry did as he was told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flash that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. The thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.

"Also just as you suspected, Demetria," said Dumbledore. "Very well done."

"Thank you, sir." My voice sounded distant, even in my own ears. I was not at all feeling like myself enough to enjoy the compliment, or the victory of being right.

"Polyjuice Potion, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "You see the simplicity of it, the brilliance. For Moody never _does_ drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair . . . The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done . . . on the hour . . . every hour . . . We shall see."

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry and I stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence...

Then, before our very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled grey hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud _clunk_ , the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

The man lying before us now was pale-skinned and slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. I still recognized him even though he was lined around the eyes now and looked much older.

There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had entered with Winky at his heels. McGonagall was right behind them.

"Good heavens...Barty Crouch," McGonagall confirmed, seeming slightly surprised despite the fact that I'd told her it was him. "So Harris was right, then..."

"Why the tone of surprise, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes? Harris certainly is the trustworthy sort," Snape said, looking right at me; we nodded to one another.

"I am just...impressed," she admitted, also looking at me then. I gave her the same nod — a polite acknowledgement.

Filthy, disheveled, the house-elf I assumed to be Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek.

"Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?"

She flung herself forward onto Crouch Jr.'s chest.

"You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"

Snape handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle of completely clear liquid which I could only assume was Veritaserum. Dumbledore got up, bent over Barty, and pulled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath a Foe-Glass, in which the reflections of Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and myself were all glaring down upon us all. Winky remained on her knees, trembling, her hands over her face. Dumbledore forced Barty's mouth open and poured three drops inside it. Then he pointed his wand at Barty's chest and said, " _Ennervate._ "

Barty Crouch Jr. opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes," Barty muttered.

"I would like you to tell us how you came to be here," said Dumbledore softly. "How did you escape from Azkaban?"

I thought I'd known this story, and I technically did, but there ended up being one detail I'd gotten wrong.

"My mother save me," Crouch began in a flat, expressionless voice. "She knew I was dying. She persuaded my father to rescue me as a last favor to her. He loved her as he had never loved me. He agreed. They came to visit me. They gave me a draught of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She took a draught of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my hairs. We took on each other's appearance."

I'd thought Barty wanted to save his son because he loved him...

"Say no more, Master Barty," said Winky, trembling. "say no more, you is getting your father into trouble!"

Barty took another deep breath and continued in the same flat voice.

"The dementors are blind. They sensed one healthy, one dying person entering Azkaban. They sensed one healthy, one dying person leaving it. My father smuggled me out, disguised as my mother, in case any prisoners were watching through their doors.

"My mother died a short while afterward in Azkaban. She was careful to drink Polyjuice Potion until the end. She was buried under my name and bearing my appearance. Everyone believed her to be me."

"And what did your father do with you when he had gotten you home?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Staged my mother's death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master...of returning to his service."

"How did your father subdue you?" said Dumbledore.

"The Imperius Curse," Barty said. "I was under my father's control. I was forced to wear an Invisibility Cloak day and night. I was always with the house-elf. She was my keeper and caretaker. She pitied me. She persuaded my father to give me occasional treats. Rewards for my good behavior."

"Master Barty, Master Barty," sobbed Winky through her hands. "You isn't ought to tell them, we is getting in trouble..."

"Did anybody ever discover that you were still alive?" said Dumbledore softly. "Did anyone know except your father and the house-elf?"

"Yes," said Barty, eyelids flickering. "A witch in my father's office. Bertha Jorkins. She came to the house with papers for my father's signature. He was not at home. Winky showed her inside and returned to the kitchen, to me. But Bertha Jorkins heard Winky talking to me. She came to investigate. She heard enough to guess who was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father arrived home. She confronted him. He put a very powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out. Too powerful. He said it damaged her memory permanently."

"Why is she coming to nose into my master's private business?" sobbed Winky. "Why isn't she leaving us be?"

"Tell me about the Quidditch World Cup," said Dumbledore.

"Winky talked my father into it. She spent months persuading him. I had not left the house for years. I had loved Quidditch. Let him go, she said. He wil be in his Invisibility Cloak. He can watch. Let him smell fresh air for once. She said my mother would have wanted it. She told my father that my mother had died to give me freedom. She had not saved me for a life of imprisonment. He agreed in the end.

"It was carefully planned. My father led me and Winky up to the Top Box early in the day. Winky was to say that she was saving a seat for my father. I was to sit there, invisible. When everyone had left the box, we would emerge. Winky would appear to be alone. Nobody would ever know.

"But Winky didn't know that I was growing stronger. I was starting to fight my father's Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again. There were brief periods when I seemed outside his control. It happened, there, in the Top Box. It was like waking from a deep sleep. I found myself out in public, in the middle of the match, and I saw, in front of me, a wand sticking out of a boy's pocket. I had not been allowed a wand since before Azkaban. I stole it. Winky didn't know. Winky is frightened of heights. She had her face hidden."

"Master Barty, you bad boy!" whispered Winky, tears trickling between her fingers.

"So you took the wand," said Dumbledore, "and what did you do with it?"

"We went back to the tent," Barty said. "Then we heard them. We heard the Death Eaters. The ones who had never been to Azkaban. The ones who had never suffered for my master. They had turned their backs on him. They were not enslaved, as I was. They were free to seek him, but they did not. They were merely making sport of Muggles. The sound of their voices awoke me. My mind was clearer than it had been in years. I was angry. I had the wand. I wanted to attack them for their disloyalty to my master. My father had left the tent; he had gone to free the Muggles. Winky was afraid to see me so angry. She used her own brand of magic to bind me to her. She pulled me from the tent, pulled me into the forest, away from the Death Eaters. I tried to hold her back. I wanted to return to the campsite. I wanted to show those Death Eaters what loyalty to the Dark Lord meant, and to punish them for their lack of it. I used the stolen wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

"Ministry wizards arrived. They shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One of the spells came through the trees where Winky and I stood. The bond connecting us was broken. We were both Stunned.

"When Winky was discovered, my father knew I must be nearby. He searched the bushes where she had been found and felt me lying there. He waited until the other Ministry members had left the forest. He put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me home. He dismissed Winky. She had failed him. She lad let me acquire a wand. She had almost let me escape."

Winky let out a wail of despair.

"Now it was just Father and I, alone in the house. And then . . . and then . . ." Barty's head rolled on his neck, and an insane grin spread across his face. "My master came for me.

"He arrived at our house late one night in the arms of his servant Wormtail. My master had found out that I was still alive. He had captured Bertha Jorkins in Albania. He had tortured her. She told him a great deal. She told him about the Triwizard Tournament. She told him the Auror, Moody, was going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he broke through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She told him I escaped from Azkaban. She told him my father kept me imprisoned to prevent me from seeking my master. And so my master knew that I was still his faithful servant — perhaps the most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan, based upon the information Bertha had given him. He needed me. He arrived at our house near midnight. My father answered the door."

The smile spread wider over Crouch's face, as though recalling the sweetest memory of his life. Winky's petrified brown eyes were visible through her fingers. She seemed too appalled to speak...finally.

"It was very quick. My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years."

"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" said Dumbledore.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first —"

"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.

"Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark Detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boomslang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it."

"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?" Dumbledore asked.

"Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father."

"But your father escaped," said Dumbledore.

"Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchfil enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.

"My master sent word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."

"Map?" said Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?"

My guess was that it was the Marauder's Map.

"Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

"For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Demetria Harris. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I did not think I would have to harm Harris. My master told me the Harrises could be trusted. Carlisle Harris knew that I was alive. But Demetria Harris spoke to my father and began piecing things together. I Stunned Harris. I killed my father."

" _Noooooo!_ " Winky wailed. "Master Barty, Master Barty, wht is you saying?"

"You killed your father," Dumbledore parroted. "What did you do with his body?"

"Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.

"Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone . . . I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."

There was complete silence now, except for Winky's continued sobs. Then Dumbledore prompted, "And tonight..."

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty. "Turned it into a Portkey. I knew Potter would reach it first and didn't worry about the other champions, except Harris. She was too skilled and too much trouble. Decided it would be easier to keep her from the maze. Told her Madam Pomfrey wanted to check her wound from the second task. She followed me to a classroom where I locked her, but I knew I had to stay with her. Tried to manipulate the maze from there. Harris distracted me. Shot a flash of light at the door and escaped. Tried to save Potter. But my master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head dropped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.

Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes that twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly.

"Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry and Demetria upstairs?"

"Of course," said McGonagall. She looked slightly nauseous, as though she had just watched someone being sick. However, when she drew out her wand and pointed it at Barty, her hands were quite steady.

"Severus," Dumbledore turned to Snape, "please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."

Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.

"Harry? Demetria?" Dumbledore said gently.

When Harry got up he swayed a bit, probably on account of his leg. I put my arm around his back as we followed Dumbledore out into the dark corridor.

"I want you two to come up to my office first," he said quietly as we headed up the passageway. "Sirius and Remus are waiting for us there."

A kind of numbness and a sense of completely unreality were still upon me, but I didn't care; it even seemed better this way. I didn't want to have to think about anything that happened since I'd grabbed Harry's robes at the end of the maze. I knew my mind would never let me forget the things I'd seen . . . the things that kept flashing across my mind, as vivid as the visions Voldemort had forced me to see. Wormtail, slumped on the ground, cradling his stump of an arm . . . Voldemort rising from the steaming cauldron . . . Cedric, my love, dead . . .

"Professor," Harry mumbled, "where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?"

It seemed I wasn't the only one thinking of Cedric.

"They are with Professor Sprout," said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. "She was Head of Cedric's House, and knew him best, aside, of course, from Demetria."

I forced myself not to react to that.

We had reached the stone gargoyle. Dumbledore gave the password, it sprang aside, and the three of us went up the moving spiral staircase to the oak door. Dumbledore pushed it open. Sirius and Remus were standing there, both with faces white and gaunt; in one swift moment, they had crossed the room. They voiced their concerns for both Harry and I, voices overlapping; Sirius helped Harry into a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Remus and I followed.

Dumbledore began to tell them both everything Barty Crouch had said. I wasn't listening, though. I kept my mind occupied on other things by fiddling with various, interesting objects in the office. Then, there came a soft rush of wings. A phoenix had flown across the office and landed on Harry's knee.

"'Lo, Fawkes," said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. I supposed it belonged to Dumbledore.

When Dumbledore stopped talking, he sat down opposite of Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Then he looked to me; my gaze shot down as well. He was going to make us relive everything.

"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze," said Dumbledore. I wasn't sure which of us in particular he was speaking to, if he was at all, but neither of us answered.

"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius harshly. I saw him put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let him have sleep. Let him rest."

"I'll tell you," I said, though my voice sounded distant and odd, yet again. The crying had closed my throat a bit, made my voice shaky.

"Demetria —" came Remus, carefully.

"It's okay, Remus," I told him. Though from the way I sounded, I was sure everyone knew it was anything but okay. "I want to get it over with."

I looked to Harry, and when he gave me a nod, I began to tell them. As I spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night rose before my eyes and brought me right back to those very moments.

Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and I was glad, because it was easier to keep going now that I'd started. I only hoped that once I'd finished, I would feel better...

When I told of Wormtail piercing Harry's arm with the dagger, however, Sirius let out a vehement exclamation and Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry jumped in his seat. Remus and I stayed back as Dumbledore walked around the desk and told Harry to stretch out his arm. I couldn't help but feel sort of...out of place. It didn't really seem like my presence was needed, especially when Harry started speaking.

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," he told Dumbledore. "He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he'd have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, returning to his desk and sitting down again. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Demetria, continue, please."

"I'm sure Harry can take it from here, sir," I sounded as flat and expressionless as Barty after drinking Veritaserum. "If I'm not needed, I'll just —"

"You are needed, Demetria," he told me softly.

"I can take over, though," Harry offered. He looked back at me with nothing but kindness in his eyes and I was actually quite thankful to pass the reigns to him. I nodded and he continued the story.

He explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron, and told them all he could remember of Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters. Then he told how Voldemort had untied him, returned his wand to him, and prepared to duel.

But when he reached the part where the golden beam of light had connected his and Voldemort's wands, he found his throat obstructed. I considered stepping in again, but Sirius spoke instead.

"The wands connected?" he said. "Why?"

" _Priori Incantatem_ ," Dumbledore muttered.

"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Remus.

"Exactly," Dumbledore affirmed. "Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. _This_ phoenix, in fact," he added, pointing to Fawkes, still peacefully perched on Harry's knee.

"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."

"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" Sirius inquired.

"They will not work properly against each other," replied Dumbledore. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle . . . a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed — in reverse. The most recent first . . . and then those which preceded it . . . Which means that some form of Cedric must have reappeared."

I immediately threw my head back, looking up at the ceiling to keep more tears from spilling. I couldn't believe I still had more in me.

"Diggory came back to life?" said Sirius sharply.

"No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore more heavily.

Remus did not stop me as I moved quickly to a spindle-legged table and fiddled with a curious silver instrument which whirred and emitted little puffs of smoke. I needed the distractions once again, but Dumbledore seemed to understand, as he continued speaking.

"All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?"

"He spoke to me," Harry said. "He wanted me to tell Demetria something..."

It was suddenly getting much harder to breathe. I kept my back to everyone.

"An echo," said Dumbledore. "which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared . . . less recent victims of Voldemort's wand . . ."

"An old man," Harry said. "Bertha Jorkins. And..."

"Your parents?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Yes."

"The last murders the wand performed...in reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows . . . what did they do?"

Harry described how the figures that had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry's father had told him what to do, how Cedric's had made its final request . . . and then that was it, it was over . . . Well, the story at least. The memories . . . the pain . . . that would, surely, never be over.

"You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight," said Dumbledore. And though I had a feeling he was only speaking to Harry, he added, "both of you."

I finally turned around, everyone looking at me; I gave a breath of laughter.

"You do not agree, Demetria?" Dumbledore curiously asked.

" _Harry_ was brave," I said after a moment. "I gave in."

And because neither Harry nor I had mentioned the part about me switching sides — twice — Remus and Sirius looked to me with confusion; Dumbledore, on the other hand, nodded understandingly.

"You did what you had to do," Harry told me fervently. "and then you switched back."

"Yes, always switching, aren't I?" There was emotion in my voice again, but it was dark. I sounded as cynical as . . . Dolohov.

"What's going on?" Remus asked. "Demetria, you joined them?"

"No!" Harry defended me.

"Yes, Harry!" I said. "I joined them! When I was seven years old, I pledged my allegiance to them! And it stayed that way until I came to this school . . . until I found out the truth about my family . . . and then I thought, 'no, I don't want this. My parents didn't want it, my grandfather doesn't want it, why should _I_?' So I switched — switched to the good side. But then, I was reminded of the consequences . . . so I switched back . . . and then I switched again . . . and again, and again, and again . . . and tonight, I gave in. Dolohov nearly gave me the Mark last month —"

"He what?!" Sirius growled.

"Oh no, it's all right, Sirius!" I said darkly. "I agreed to it! Because I've been so bloody selfish —"

"You did it to save your grandfather!" said Harry fervently.

I froze. Grandad. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again...

"Demetria, you stepped in to defend me," Harry continued. "You broke your allegiance with Voldemort nearly as quickly as you started it."

It sounded sort of mean, but considering the circumstances, it really wasn't, and I knew what he meant. But when more silence passed through, Harry spoke again, realizing what happened.

"Is that why you said what you did about your family?"

Tears.

"Demetria..." said Remus gently.

I walked back over to them and tried to speak, but my throat wouldn't allow it. Not only that, but I did not wish to repeat the cruel words. Harry did it for me. I tried to block them out, but they rang in my ears.

" _I haven't considered Carlisle to be my family for a long time. You can keep him._ "

Remus wrapped an arm around me as my tears fell silently. I'd never cried so much...

"I said it to save him," I said so very quietly, "For months, now, I've been ignoring him . . . I've been furious with him . . . And tonight, we said our goodbyes . . . I'll never see him again . . ."

No one tried to make any offers from the bright side, because there wasn't one. This storm cloud did not have a silver lining. Now that Voldemort was back, there would be no way to sneak around him. And with Grandad being so deep in the inner circle, there wasn't a chance.

"Demetria, you do not believe you have shown bravery tonight?" Dumbledore asked again.

After a moment, I muttered, "I s'pose so."

"You have both shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourselves equal to it — and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. Harry, you will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

Sirius nodded and stood up; he made his way over to me and wrapped his arms around me before transforming into the great black dog.

"Demetria, if you wouldn't mind waiting for my return...?" Dumbledore said. "There is another matter I wish to discuss with you."

I nodded.

Sirius, Harry, and Dumbledore left the office and I dropped myself into the chair Harry had been sitting in, Remus at my side. We didn't speak, and on the one hand, I appreciated it, because I truly did not wish to speak, nor did my strained throat particularly want me to; but I also wished we could speak of something, anything, other than what happened . . . I couldn't seem to distract myself . . .

When Dumbledore returned, he returned to his desk and sat down in front of me.

"I will keep this brief, Demetria," he said. "I am sure you would like to rest as well."

Honestly, I didn't. I knew it would be impossible to fall asleep.

"Barty Crouch mentioned you used a flash of light to break down the classroom door," he began. "I took a stroll past it — the door was blown completely off its hinges. I am assuming it was locked magically?"

"The Unlocking Charm didn't work," I said, voice distant again. "but yeah, maybe locked with a password or something..."

"Dark magic, no doubt," Dumbledore said. "but your _light_ was able to break through it."

I straightened up.

"Capital L?" I asked, astonished.

Dumbledore nodded. I thought, then, that Remus would be out of the loop, but then I remembered Rita Skeeter's lovely article about my being a Lumen.

"So this . . . flash of light that I can do . . . that's my power?"

"One of them, yes," said Dumbledore. "Tell me, are you able to control this power?"

"Not really," I admitted. "It only happens when I'm really angry."

"As I suspected . . . When first introduced to Lumens, their powers are based solely on strong hormonal reactions. As the powers start to progress, however, they will become rather temperamental and difficult to control unless properly trained."

"Can she learn on her own?" Remus inquired. "I'm sure there's been research on this sort of thing, some books —

"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore. "Lumens are a rather private people. They share their knowledge only with their own kind. Demetria, we will need to find someone who is able to train you."

"We?" I parroted. "You're going to help?"

Dumbledore gave a small smile, the twinkling returning to his eyes behind the half-moon spectacles as he said, "Of course."

"Well can't we just find whoever taught my mum?" I asked hopefully.

"That certainly would be convenient . . . if we were able to do so," said Dumbledore. "You see, when I first suspected your abilities, I tried to send a number of owls to your mother's teacher, and I'm afraid each owl returned to me with the very same letters I'd sent. This leads me to believe that Lucy's teacher has either passed on or does not wish to be found, at least not yet."

"Not yet?" I parroted.

"Do you remember what I told you about receiving the locket?" he asked.

"Timing," I said, understanding.

Dumbledore nodded.

"The most we can do at this point in time is wait and see," he said, "but in the mean time, I will do my best to see if I can find someone else. Now, one final thing before you get some well-deserved rest for the night . . . You are planning to return to Durmstrang, correct?"

"Correct..."

"Should that remain to be the case, I will owl you with any and all details that arise, as well as negotiate a time and place for frequent meetings with whomever I am able to find, who I believe will be most beneficial for you. Or, if you wish, I need not be involved at all..."

"I'd like your help," I said genuinely.

"Very well," he said, nodding in appreciation, "then I must ask you to entertain the thought of transferring here — to Hogwarts."

I'd heard it from nearly everyone else, and now it was coming from the headmaster.

"It would certainly simplify things," he reasoned, "and it would require no effort. I would handle all of the necessary paperwork — just a request of transferring records, really — and all I would ask you do is arrive the night before the rest of the school for some brief testing, in order to determine which classes you should be taking."

To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what was keeping me at Durmstrang . . . maybe I just wanted to keep a connection with Grandad in any possible way I could now . . . But it _would_ make things easier to transfer, and Viktor and Grigor were graduating, so they wouldn't be at Durmstrang next year . . . although Finn still would be . . .

"I don't think we're going to reach a decision tonight," Remus said for me when my silence dragged on.

"I'd like to think about it, if that's all right?" I spoke up.

"Of course," said Dumbledore. "You may have the remainder of the summer to ponder it, if you wish. I do, however, ask that I receive word of your decision before the final week of August."

I nodded and got up to leave, but Dumbledore stopped me.

"You may wish to sleep in the hospital wing tonight, as well."

"I'm not ill or injured, sir," I said.

"True, but it may be a more peaceful resting place than the ship, don't you think?"

I gave another nod, and Dumbledore began walking with Remus and I out of his office, down the spiral staircase. I hadn't realized how tired I was until that moment; my eyelids kept threatening to close. My eyes, probably red and puffy from the crying, were sort of throbbing in their sockets. Remus noticed and slung an arm around my shoulders. I was very thankful that he was there, very grateful that Dumbledore had invited him.

Suddenly, after descending a staircase to the fourth floor, a commotion could be detected. Two people were arguing, and when I caught sight of them, they were rushing toward the hospital wing.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva —" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out —"

But that was it, because they'd burst through the hospital wing doors. I watched Snape march in after them. Dumbledore quickened his pace beside Remus and I, who followed him in as well.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch —"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

I didn't know this woman very well, nor did I know her for that long of a time, but I never would've imagined she could lose control like this. She'd always kept herself together every time I'd seen her, no matter what the situation. But now, she looked absolutely furious; angry blotches of color in her cheeks, hands balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape in a low voice, "he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch —"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but —"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, also appearing rather angry, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous —"

But McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that — that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and — and —"

But she didn't need to finish that sentence. I was fairly certain everyone knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal Kiss to Barty Crouch Jr. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" blustered Fudge. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

"But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius," said Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. "He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them?" blustered Fudge. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort _was_ giving him instructions, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. He began to sputter, still goggling at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore..."

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtlessly told you," said Dumbledore. "we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggled out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used him to capture Harry. The plan worked, I can tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

"See here, Dumbledore," said Fudge, a bloody _smile_ dawning on his face. "you — you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now . . . certainly, Crouch may have _believed_ himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore..."

"Why, you —"

Remus tightened his grip on my shoulders and held me back; no one seemed to notice. I wanted nothing more than to punch that miserable git square in the face.

"When Harry and Demetria touched the Triwizard Cup tonight," said Dumbledore over what I'd just furiously whispered. "they were transported straight to Voldemort. They witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry or Demetria tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered, and it only fueled my desire to hex him. He glanced at Harry, then me, and then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are — er — prepared to take their word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Sirius growling.

"Certainly, I believe Harry and Demetria," said Dumbledore, eyes blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard both Demetria and Harry's account of what happened after they touched the Triwizard Cup; the stories all make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that strange smile on his face. Once again, he glanced at Harry and I before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and two children who . . . well . . ."

It clicked for me then, and I couldn't help but exhale a small chuckle.

"Fancy yourself a Rita Skeeter fan, Mr. Fudge?"

Fudge reddened slightly, but a defiant and obstinate look came over his face.

"Let's say I _have_ been reading her articles," he said, looking at Dumbledore. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place —"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Dumbledore coolly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore took a step toward Fudge, almost seeming to radiate a sense of power. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn.

"And what about Demetria?" he challenged.

"Severus has informed me that Voldemort was using Legilimency in order to penetrate Demetria's mind and fill her head with terrible visions in an effort to receive her allegiance," said Dumbledore steadily. "That incident only occured once and has not at all damaged her mind."

Fudge appeared as though he was all out of moves, and yet he continued to speak, though he went back to Harry.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before . . ."

"Look, we saw Lord Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill all jumped, seeming to have not known that Harry was awake. "We saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy —"

Snape made a sudden movement, but his eyes flew back to Fudge just as quickly.

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge dismissed. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes —"

"Macnair!" Harry continued.

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle —"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" said Fudge angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them — the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

The more this ignorant man spoke, the more I felt white-hot Light surging through my body. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to hold it in.

"You fool!" McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Dumbledore, who had been checking up on me every time Fudge spoke, realized I was right on the edge of losing it. He quickly made his way over to me and held both of my hands in his, whispering something — probably a spell — which actually worked to calm me down.

"And what about this girl?" I heard Fudge say, but I wasn't looking at him; I kept my eyes shut, trying to focus on the words Dumbledore was repeating. "This is your other reliable source of information? There is clearly something wrong with —"

"Carlisle Harris," I said, surprisingly calm, eyes still closed. "Recognize that name, Mr. Fudge?"

"Yes, Harris is another one who was clea —" When I opened my eyes, I saw that he'd pieced it together. " _Harris_..."

"You don't think I'd know a thing or two about whether or not Voldemort had truly returned?" I challenged, voice even.

"That depends, Miss Harris," Fudge's smile was back. "Are you confessing that your grandfather has returned to his old Death Eater ways?"

A dead end. I couldn't very well turn in Grandad...

"Are you choosing to deny the truth, then?" I seethed.

But Fudge didn't answer me, and I knew what his answer was.

Dumbledore released my hands and said to Fudge, "Voldemort has returned. If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors —"

"Preposterous!" shouted Fudge again. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of the creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth as though no words could express his outrage.

"The second step you must take — and at once," Dumbledore pressed, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, unfortunately finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career —"

"You are blinded," said Dumbledore, voice rising and eyes blazing once more, "by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," whispered Fudge, backing away. "Mad..."

And then there was silence until Dumbledore spoke again.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit."

Dumbledore's voice carried no hint of a threat; it sounded like a mere statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore were advancing upon him with a wand.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore," he said, waving a threatening finger. "I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves —" He glared at Remus before turning back to Dumbledore. "— or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me —"

"The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer for this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. At last, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice, "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be . . ."

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

"There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

That was when I realized I hadn't seen Karkaroff at the graveyard . . . He fled? He'd just left his students? I couldn't say I was _completely_ surprised...

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, walked up to me, took a rather large bag of gold out of his pocket and tossed it to me. Then he strode back down the dormitory, stopped at Harry's bed, and dropped another bag onto Harry's bedside table.

"Your winnings," he said shortly. "It was decided to split the prize money between the two of you. Five hundred Galleons each. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . ."

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The moment he had disappeared, Dumbledore turned to look at the group surrounding Harry's bed.

"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly . . . am I right in thinking I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," said Mrs. Weasley. She was white to the lips, but she looked resolute. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," said Dumbledore. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry —"

"Leave it to me," said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly out of the room.

"Minerva," said Dumbledore. "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."

McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey. "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very — very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed, and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.

"And now, it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.

"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's okay!"

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. As is, Remus. I trust you. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

But judging by the way Sirius and Snape were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing, it seemed the real problem was between them, Snape and Remus never even making eye contact.

"I will settle," began Dumbledore with a bite of impatience in his voice, "in the short term for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

Very slowly — but still glaring at each other — Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

"I trust you two are on respectable terms, then?" Dumbledore asked, looking between Snape and Remus.

"I'd say so," said Remus; Snape nodded rather politely.

"Then that will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between Snape and Sirius once more. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Remus, Sirius — I need you both to set off at once. You are to alert Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Then, Sirius, lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But —" said Harry.

"You'll see me very soon, Harry," Sirius assured him. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah...of course I do."

Sirius transformed back into the black dog and walked over to Remus.

"I suppose this means goodbye for us as well," Remus said to me. "But not for long."

I nodded. "Right," was all I could think to say; I was still not feeling my best.

"After all, I heard you'll be needing a place to stay over the summer," he said brightly.

I looked up at him. "Really?" I asked, taken aback, but smiling ever-so-slightly.

Remus kissed the top of my head in reply, and said, "See you at home" before turning to leave, Sirius trotting alongside him. And then they were gone.

"Severus," said Dumbledore. "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . ."

"I am," said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

"Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched with a trace of apprehension on his face as Snape went wordlessly after Remus and Sirius.

"I must go downstairs," Dumbledore finally spoke after several minutes of silence. "I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. Demetria, help yourself as well — it produces a dreamless sleep. I will see all of you later."

As Dumbledore disappeared, I moved to where he'd pointed to retrieve the potion. It was a small bottle with purple liquid, and I poured as much as I could into a nearby goblet.

"You've got to take the rest of your potion, Harry," came Mrs. Weasley. I moved to occupy a bed near Harry's. "You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while . . . think about what you're going to buy with your winnings!"

I was just about to drink from my goblet when I'd heard Mrs. Weasley say that... I'd nearly forgotten about the sack of gold I'd shoved into my pocket. I placed the goblet on the bedside cabinet and retrieved the bag, and Harry read my mind.

"I don't want that gold," he said in an expressionless voice. "You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn't have even won half of it. It should've all been Cedric's."

I was still staring at my own bag, though I felt everyone look over at me.

"He's right," I said quietly. "I shouldn't've gotten this even if Cedric were still..." I didn't want to finish that sentence, nor did I have to.

I dropped the bag onto the cabinet.

"If I'd just been quicker..."

"It wasn't your fault," Harry told me. "I'm the one who told him to take the cup with me."

My eyes were focused on the goblet, which I held in my hands once again, but I could see Mrs. Weasley out of the corner of my eye, hugging Harry. I couldn't help but think of Grandad...

There came a loud slamming noise. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, before turning to me and winking; she'd caught Rita Skeeter in her Animagus form, and it actually made me smile the tiniest bit . . . but just for a second . . .

It was hard to believe it was still the same night . . . Although visions from the graveyard still flashed vividly in my mind, it felt as though it should've been a new day by now. I supposed I would have to get used to the feeling of days dragging on . . .

"Your potion, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley. "You too, Demetria."

"Wait," I got up and moved to Harry before he could take the last gulp of his potion. "What did he want you to tell me?"

Harry glanced around his bed, Mrs. Weasley and Ron stepping away, before whispering the message to me.

"He said, 'Tell Demetria . . . to remember to live . . . and not to let her life stop for me . . . Tell her I love her . . . and I know she loves me . . . but I want her to love again . . ."

After a moment, I quickly thanked Harry and hurried back to my own bed. I climbed in and immediately began drinking the potion. I didn't want to dwell on the words, didn't want to think of Cedric, and I certainly didn't want to cry again. The effect, thankfully, was instantaneous. At once, I found myself deep in dreamless sleep.

* * *

 _Three new chapters in one day?! This one's for Laurafxox, this story's biggest fan, and a huge motivator for me. Hope you enjoyed, Laura! Only one chapter left!_


	23. Chapter 22: Remember

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

 _Remember_

:.:.:

The next few days certainly did drag on . . . though they passed by in a blur. I couldn't bring myself to focus on much of anything, and my Durmstrang brothers seemed to notice; they didn't try and question me about what happened, they didn't speak to me much at all, except Viktor, Finn, and Grigor, of course. But they didn't take it personally if I didn't respond or retreated into my thoughts, and never forced me to tell them anything. They were just simply there for me to keep me company, and that was all I wanted at the moment.

The first week was a rather emotional time. I couldn't seem to go very long without tears slipping out. The blokes did their best to distract me, though, as did the twins. They didn't visit too often, but considering I never left the ship anymore, they did make two or three trips out to see me; I'm afraid I wasn't much company, though.

On the night before we were to return to Durmstrang, that was when a state of numbness hit me. I felt more like a statue of who I used to be rather than the flesh and blood of who I was. I glided into the Great Hall for the Leaving Feast, as though I were nothing but a ghost. In a way, I sort of was, I suppose. I noticed, upon entering, there were black drapes on the wall behind the staff table. I knew they were there as a mark of respect to Cedric.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. I couldn't blame him; Moody's fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Karkaroff's chair was empty. I wondered if he'd managed to hide somewhere.

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to McGonagall, was Snape. He looked as sour as ever. Pretty soon, Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was, became very quiet.

"The end of another year," said Dumbledore, looking around at us all.

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had even gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," Dumbledore continued, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

We did, all of us; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

We all sat down again.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House," Dumbledore continued; Viktor, on my left, and Finn, on my right, each took one of my hands in theirs. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

I was shaken from the bubble I'd been keeping myself in. I straightened up and stared at Dumbledore.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now . . . except Draco. I noticed him muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle.

"There are two other people who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter and Demetria Harris."

 _Why me?_ I thought. _Why not just Harry? I didn't do a damn thing..._

"Harry Potter and Demetria Harris managed to escape Lord Voldemort. They risked their lives to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. They showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor them."

Dumbledore looked between Harry and I, raising his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. I didn't want them to, not for me anyway. It should've been about Harry . . . Actually, it should've been about Cedric . . .

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to myself and the other Durmstrangs.

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, eyes lingering upon us Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

I knew I always would.

–

"Not gonna say your goodbyes?" Finn asked me.

I was perched up on the port railing of the ship, watching students from all three schools come together and bid farewell. Not everyone was doing this, but I did catch sight of Fleur saying goodbye to Harry.

"I'll see them again," I said indifferently.

"It'd mean a lot to them if you said _something_ , I'm sure," he pressed softly.

"Why aren't _you_ saying goodbye?"

"I've just got one left." His voice sounded distant, dreamy. I followed his gaze and spotted Daphne Greengrass. I wondered if they'd ever made things official, though my guess was that they didn't. I wasn't sure why but I also didn't feel like prying to find out. I suppose distance would play a part, though...

"Go on, then," I encouraged, though rather blandly.

Finn looked at me for a moment, clearly concerned, but eventually, he did descend the plank and go to Daphne. I also spotted Viktor saying goodbye to Hermione, and I'd been so interested in watching them that I hadn't noticed someone walking up the plank.

"Demetria?" came a French-accented voice. It was Fleur. "I am sorry if I am bozzering you."

"No," I told her, shaking my head.

"I just wanted to apologize for 'ow I treated you in ze beginning," she said whole-heartedly.

I was so surprised . . . also because I could feel an actual emotion etched across my face.

"I-I'd like to apologize too," I told her honestly.

"Zat is okay," she assured me, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps we will see each uzzer again." She reached out her hand; we shook.

I nodded. "That would be nice," I said, a fraction of a smile beginning to form on my own face.

"Good-bye, Demetria," she said, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure."

"Au revoir, Fleur."

And before she made her way down the plank, she looked to me with such a bright smile that it actually made me smile too. And if Fleur Delacour, of all people, wished to say goodbye to me, then I knew the friends I'd made at Hogwarts deserved the very same from me . . . even though it wasn't really goodbye, just see you later. I found Harry and Ron close by Viktor and Hermione, the two still engaged in conversation.

"You're coming to the Burrow this summer, right?" Ron asked immediately.

"I wouldn't miss it," I told him, a trace of a smile still carved into my face, though it never reached my eyes. I held out my arms, and though Ron was a bit hesitant, ears reddening, we hugged.

"Harry, I'll see you too, I hope?"

He seemed to give me the same sort of smile.

"Of course," he said; we hugged as well. "Remember to live," he whispered to me before we pulled apart. I nodded.

Hermione came over with Viktor, and we hugged, of course. She assured me she would see me at the Burrow too. And speaking of the Burrow, I began searching for those troublesome Weasley twins, as Cedric's last words for me began to play in my head.

 _"_ _Tell Demetria . . . to remember to live . . . and not to let her life stop for me . . ."_

Suddenly, someone had covered my eyes with their hands.

"Can't wait for that Quidditch match, Princess."

Fred.

"You're on, Weasley."

I turned around and immediately wrapped my arms around him; he quickly followed suit.

"See you soon, Harris," he said when we pulled apart.

"See you," I returned.

"Just can't get enough of us, can you, Dem?" George appeared beside his twin.

 _". . . Tell her I love her . . . and I know she loves me . . ."_

I rolled my eyes, though still grinning. "I suppose not."

George extended his arms, and I placed myself between them.

 _". . . but I want her to love again . . ."_

Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea. I pulled away from George and looked between him and his twin.

"Come with me," I told them brightly.

"To Durmstrang?" said George, taken aback.

"No," I told them, laughing. "Just come with me for a second."

They followed me as I led the way back to the ship.

"Better make it quick, Princess," said Fred, checking his watch. "We can't miss the carriages."

We made our way below deck, into the students' quarters, and then over to mine and Viktor's bunk. I pulled my trunk out from underneath and drew out my Triwizard winnings.

"I want you two to have this," I told them, handing the sack to George.

"What?" he said, flabbergasted.

"For your joke shop," I said fervently, "since Bagman never paid up."

"You can't be serious," said Fred.

"We can't take this." George tried giving it back to me.

"Please, I don't want it," I told them earnestly. "I shouldn't've even gotten it."

The twins exchanged a look.

"If you don't take it, I'm just going to toss it —"

"Alright alright," Fred was the first to admit defeat. "If you're sure...?"

"Yes, absolutely," I told him, happy to be rid of it. That gold had been a rather massive weight on my conscience.

"Thank you, Dem," he said sincerely before hugging me again.

"Yeah, seriously," said George, doing the same, "thank you, Tri."

Tri. My heart skipped a beat, as it always did.

 _". . . but I want her to love again . . ."_

–

The day after we returned to Durmstrang was also the day we would all be heading back home. Usually, the night before would involve a large feast and a speech from Karkaroff in honor of the seventh years graduating. However, since Karkaroff had up and left us, Sasha took over. He'd been nervous, certainly, but he seemed to have a knack for it. I wondered if, since he was also graduating, the Norwegian Ministry would simply consider making him the new headmaster.

The journey back home was always — Well, just that — a journey. We started out by taking the ship out of the mountainous region where the castle was located, and from that point on, it was Muggle travel; unless, of course, you lived in Norway, in which case, congratulations — you were home. Those from Norway usually had family waiting for them once we all got off the ship, but for everyone else, our next destination was the train station, where we rode through Sweden and into Denmark. From there, everyone split apart, all of us sort of on our own at that point. Some stayed on the train, others had to take connecting routes, but everyone's destination was either Ukraine, Russia, or Bulgaria. Well, everyone except the two blokes I never bothered to notice were Finn and his younger step-brother, Marko. This was also where I said goodbye to Viktor and Grigor.

"I can't believe you two won't be at school next year," I said, crestfallen.

"Vell it is a good thing you found Finn," Grigor brightly offered. "or else you vould haff been on your own."

Finn tousled my hair beside me.

"Yeah, good thing," I teased sarcastically.

"Ve vill all stay in touch," Viktor assured me. "Do not vorry, sestra. Nothing is going to break apart this family."

And I knew he was right.

"Shte se vidim skoro," I told both of my Bulgarian brothers. "Az vi obicham i dvete." **(** _ **I'll see you soon. I love you both**_ **)**

Grigor and I embraced, exchanging kisses on the cheek as he said, "Obichame te." **(** _ **We love you**_ **)**

Grigor wrapped Finn up in a hug then, too. After Viktor and Finn did the same, he approached me and kissed my forehead, hugging me.

"It was you, wasn't it?" I asked him. Viktor pulled back and looked at me strangely.

"Vut vos me?" he asked.

"You put my name in the Goblet of Fire," I said matter-of-factly.

When Viktor began to smile, I thought I was right, so I was surprised to hear him say, "I did not, sestra, but I know who did."

"You knew the whole time?" I said incredulously.

"I found out very recently," he told me, "but you vould not believe me if I told you."

"Try me," I said.

After a rather long pause, Viktor finally said, "Nikolai Pavel."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "That git said he didn't! He was trying to get me killed?!"

Viktor actually chuckled. "No, no, Demi, you haff it all wrong," he assured me. "Pavel has been jealous of you since you came to Durmstrang. He never gave Grigor and I any trouble until ve befriended you. After you two duelled on the ship, Pavel vos vorried he had hurt you; he asked me how you vere ven I returned. That vos ven he admitted he had been too scared to enter the Trivizard Tournament."

"And you just knew that meant he put my name in?" I asked in disbelief.

"I am good, but not that good, no," Viktor admitted. "Though that is vut I suspected, so I asked; he said yes. He said, as much as he did not like to admit it, he knew Durmstrang vould be better served vith you as our champion."

I sighed.

"I'm not even going to think about it, I'm just going to believe you," I told him.

It seemed rather unbelievable that Nikolai would do something like that for any reason other than to have me hurt . . . but then again, perhaps not . . . I had, after all, seen another side of Nikolai a few times during that year, and it didn't appear to be a bad side at all.

"He _did_ also tell me that if I told you this, he vould deny it," Viktor said.

I laughed. "Now I _definitely_ believe it."

Viktor and I hugged again before he and Grigor went their way, and Finn, Marko, and I went ours. We headed to the ferry we'd be taking into the United Kingdom which, to our dismay, could not be done until reaching the Netherlands, for there were no longer any direct ferry routes from Scandinavia to the UK.

Unfortunately, there was a range limit on Apparation; only the absolute most skilled of witches and wizards ever even attempted inter-continental Apparation. And since I'd never seen anyone confident enough to pick up their child or children from Scandinavia by Apparating, Muggle transportation was necessary. It was also rather inconvenient, but it gave you extra time to spend with your mates, and though I usually took this part of the journey alone and used it for thinking time, it was nice to spend it with Finn, _and_ Marko. I had a few good conversations with him, as well. And before I knew it, I was in the home stretch. All that was left was to take a train into London. Finn and Marko, on the other hand, still had a bit of a journey left in order to reach Scotland, so when the train pulled into King's Cross Station at my stop, Finn and I said our goodbyes.

"Don't get into too much trouble without me, Demetrius," he teased.

"It wouldn't be the same without you, Winifinn," I retorted, smirking.

He pulled me into his embrace, then, which I gladly returned.

"Owl me," I told him, sincerely.

He rubbed my back in a reassuring circle before breaking away. "As you wish, Your Highness."

"Couldn't be serious for a second more, could you?" I swatted his arm and he gave a laugh.

"See you, Dem." Finn smiled, watching as I left the compartment.

"See you, Finn."

My trunk and I stepped off the great steam engine and on to Platform 9 from Harwich. For a split second, I'd been expecting to see Grandad, but when I spotted Remus instead, it served as a reminder of why Grandad wasn't there.

"All right, Demetria?" Remus asked, concerned.

"Yeah, just tired," I told him; it was true, though. It was fairly late and I was exhausted.

"Then let's get you home."

Home. How could I call any place other than Harris Manor, home? I wished, then, that I hadn't ignored Grandad so much during the year, that Dumbledore had invited him when the families visited to watch the third task. But then I thought . . . I could wish and wish, but it wouldn't change a thing . . . What's done is done. I couldn't live in the past . . . and I would try my hardest not to. I would listen to Cedric's advice — I would remember to live.

* * *

 _And so the first book ends! I do have the sequel FINISHED, and will start posting, so be sure you're following me to be notified of when the new story posts! Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me to keep going when I thought no one was interested anymore. I'm currently working on Book III so I hope everyone is as excited as I am for that!_


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